


See Me After Class

by aphleser



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire
Genre: AU, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy, teacher/student relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:31:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 35,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8096995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphleser/pseuds/aphleser
Summary: Elphaba Thropp is a Life Sciences professor at Shiz University. Fiyero Tigelaar is her newest student. Watch the sparks, insults and the occasional backhand fly. Bookverse, but with influences from the musical.





	1. Collision

**Author's Note:**

> This is another of my FanFiction.net imports onto AO3, and it's 35 chapters, so it may take me some time to transfer all of it. This was my first every fic, and I hope you enjoy my writing a year ago.

Fiyero Tigelaar was snoring.

His carriage wheeled and bucked, bounced and knocked, but still he slept on in mindless and oblivious affluence. Mouth open, molars showing, legs dangling over the stanchion of the compact vehicle, and eyes squeezed lazily shut in the obstinance of sleep.

So you can imagine how he slept even in the face of hitting someone with his private carriage.

"What the Hell are you doing?!" A serrated voice ripped him from the Land of Nod, jolting him awake. His bleary eyes cracked open, blinking away the sleep gathering in the corner of his eyes.

"Wuzzit? Garth, wuzzgoinon?" He mumbled, as Garth (his most loyal handservant) pushed the low voice aside to converse.

"Prince Fiyero, we've arrived at Shiz University."

"Never mind that, what about you almost hitting me with your stupid carriage, you idiotic sybarite?" The voice hissed. Fiyero's now-focused eyes found a green face. A female, green face.

"Who are you?" The voice came again. Fiyero blinked. The face sighed, closing her eyes.

"What is your name?" She enunciated carefully, as if he were slow.

"Crown Prince Fiyero Tigelaar of the Vinkus, Champion of Kiamo Ko and Mighty Hunter of the Thousand Year Grasslands!" Garth exclaimed, his birdlike chest puffed up with pride, a wide smile stretching his mouth.

"You mean Crown Prince Fiyero Tigelaar of the Vinkus, Champion of Sleep and Mighty Slayer of all intelligence and common sense." She snapped. That resonated with Fiyero, and he shot upwards to defend his soiled title.

"I could have your head for such talk, Miss-"

"Thropp, and I doubt it. Not unless you wish to learn anything at this fine institution." Her chin lifted just a fraction.

"What to you mean, Miss Thropp?" He spat.

"I mean, Master Fiyero, that I am a professor here at Shiz. So if you wish to be treated as any other student would, I suggest you apologise to me." She was a teacher? Miss Thropp's arms crossed, and Fiyero couldn't help noticing how he couldn't see her veins under her greeny skin. But she was a paler shade on her wrists that on her forearms. His eyes travelled up her black sleeves to find her wearing a black, below knee-length frock that hugged her body. Miss Thropp tapped an impatient combat boot-clad foot.

"I, well, I... You see... I regret... Uh..." Fiyero stammered, unable to wrench his pupils from her shapely form to her eyes, where his gaze should be directed. He swallowed.

"I'm waiting, Master Tigelaar." She singsonged, tilting her dark head from side to side.

"I apologise, Miss Thropp." Surely that would satisfy her?

"For?" She prompted, leaning forward a degree and lifting a dark eyebrow. From this angle, Fiyero could admire her elegant swan-like neck.

"For... almost knocking you over with my carriage." That had to be enough.

"Whilst you were?" The corner of Miss Thropp's mouth quirked upwards, a smug, half-smile playing on her thin, pretty lips. Pretty?

"Sleeping?" The influx in his voice rose, exposing his confusion and nerves.

"I suppose that half-arsed apology will have to do," she mock-sighed, "Welcome to Shiz University, Master Tigelaar."

She spun on her heel and sped away, giving Fiyero a view of her pert behind. Dazed, Fiyero reflected on his situation. Within a few clock-turns, he had arrived at Shiz, almost knocked over a teacher, admired said teacher and apologised.

I shouldn't feel this, Fiyero desperately thought; I shouldn't feel aroused by a professor! But her manner, all sarcasm and wit and insults was - dare he admit it? - sexy. And her body didn't hurt either.

Oh, dear sweet Lurline, he thought, throwing his head back onto velveteen seats, what have I started?


	2. Questions or Bullets?

There's nothing quite like Shiz in the autumn, thought-sighed Elphaba contentedly. The turning and curling leaves, the bustling new students, and the beginning of a new academic year's lectures and lessons, seminars and practices.

She hadn't given the Tigelaar boy much thought since their last meeting, but his dusky face occasionally crept into her mind's eye, unbidden and unwanted. Banishing him from her thoughts, Elphaba focused all of her attentions on plaiting her black hair into a neat braid.

Malky wound his skinny body around her bamboo-pole thin legs, purring loudly. Elphaba reached down to scratch him under his chin and ears, and he pushed his head into her palm for more. She chuckled lightly, and picked him up gently, setting him down in her room in his basket. Shouldering her dark book bag, containing a pencil case, two thick notebooks and her lunch, she exited the apartment, locking her door behind her.

Her modest flat was a stone's throw from campus, and she walked there and back every day. Emerging out of the dank alley where her flat rested, Elphaba walked blinking into the sunlight. The crisp air smelled of bruised apples and paper, as she neared the University. The spires of Crage Hall spun like barley sugar into the cloud-spat sky, while street vendor called and shouted, advertising their goods as the best in all of Oz. Shiz was a University town ultimately, but corners of it were dedicated to markets and bazaars. She passed stalls and stands selling their trinkets and knick-knacks, catering for every demographic with throw pillows and blankets, pleasure-faith charms and cheap parlour tricks, Unionist bibles and bookmarks and Lurlinist posters, with encouraging slogans scrawled across the vellum. Ignoring the calls to her ("Miss! Miss! Can I interest you in a brand-new never-before-seen product this fine morning?"), Elphaba drew herself up taller and continued onwards.

Entering Shiz, Elphaba sighed in relief for the silence it provided. Walking the hallowed halls, she admired the panelled mahogany walls, which were punctuated with portraits of erstwhile Headmasters and Headmistresses.

Turning a sharp left, Elphaba speed-walked into her lecture theatre. Setting her bag neatly down by her desk, she stepped up onto the rostrum and penned her name tidily across the blackboard with a stick of dusty, bone-white chalk. Glancing over at the small oil painting of Dr. Dillamond, hooves crossed aristocratically, she gently touched the corner of the frame.

"I hope I make you proud, Dr. Dillamond." She whispered. Glancing down at her silver pocket-watch, she reaffirmed her guess at the time. Only a few clock-turns to go, before the torrent of students clash and clatter and gossip and chatter their way through the spacious halls, disrupting the early morning peace. The precious clock-ticks of quiescent and tranquil silence were a relief, a brief respite.

Elphaba sat at her gnarled Quoxwood desk, arranging papers, setting up presentations and placing a tin of spare quills at the far right-hand corner.

The first students began to trickle in, looking a little lost. Elphaba stood up, a small, welcoming smile on her lips.

"Welcome students. My name is Miss Thropp, and I teach Life Sciences. Sit down, and we'll begin our lesson." Already feeling the pointed stares, she sat back down, spine ramrod straight. If she just dealt with their curiosity over her looks now, it would be over.

The hustle of seat-selecting and papers rustling died down gradually. All the students were now sat down, staring at her. She sighed, almost imperceptibly. Elphaba set her sharp, poking elbows on the desk. Lifting her chin, she regarded the class, scanning each pale face.

"I can tell you're all dying to know what's wrong with me," she began, and some students shifted awkwardly, or looked away pointedly, "you have five minutes of questions to ask me about my skin." She braced herself, "Fire away."

A flood of questions and queries were blasted at Elphaba like curious bullets, a wall of voices shouting towards her, and she almost leaned back from the force of the painful diction.

"Why are you green?"

"Where you cursed?"

"Are you evil?"

"Does it hurt?"

"Can you get sunburn?"

"Have you always been green?"

"Are your parents green?"

"Enough!" Her own voice blasted them into terrified silence. She took a deep breath, reigning in her temper, imagining it on a leash with a muzzle over its snarling mouth.

"One at a time." She said firmly. A boy lifted his hand into the tense air.

"Why are you green?" He asked without shame. Elphaba rolled her eyes.

"I was born like this, Master-?"

"Tenmeadows. Avaric Tenmeadows. And that's not a reason." She narrowed her eyes.

"I am not going to argue with a boy," she saw him wince, "over the circumstances of my birth. I was born this way. I have no idea why or how I came to be green. Next." A pretty blonde girl waved her fingers at Elphaba.

"Yes, Miss-"

"Arduenna. Galinda Arduenna. And were you cursed?" Elphaba raised an eyebrow.

"My last answer works as an answer to your own question, Miss Galinda." The blonde blushed prettily, the apples of her creamy cheeks turning rosy.

"Next."

"Are you evil?" That wasn't anything new, she thought-sighed.

"If I were evil, Miss-?"

"Shenshen."

"Miss Shenshen, I wouldn't be allowed to teach impressionable young minds, would I?" The girl shook her head, cowed.

"Does it hurt?" A Munchkin boy piped up, his tightly curled hair pushed back with a white ribbon. Taken aback, Elphaba thought back. No one, in her memory had ever asked about her well-being concerning her skin. Recovering quickly, she hastened to answer the boy.

"Does your skin hurt, Master-?"

"Boq, Miss Thropp. And no, it doesn't."

"Then you have your answer." Elphaba turned her head to another girl, sat next to Miss Shenshen, whose hand was waving in the air.

"Yes, Miss-?"

"Pfannee, and can you get sunburn, Miss Thropp?" She tilted her head to one side, like a bird eyeing a mouse.

"No, I can't, Miss Pfannee. My skin is a little different to normal." She smirked, and a few students tittered, timid smiles on their faces.

"I'm Miss Milla, Miss Thropp, and were your parents green?"

"No, Miss Milla. They weren't. They were a perfectly normal colour. Is that all?" Their silence was enough of an answer. Elphaba smiled, having satisfied her students' painful curiosity.

"Then I'll begin."


	3. Blurting

After the unfortunate near meeting of Miss Thropp's form and Fiyero's carriage, the Prince kept a wary eye out for the stern professor. Her rich brown eyes haunted his imagination. Any flash of green had his heart pounding; and nine times out of ten it was a plant. Finally, he calmed down enough to settle into University life once more. His classes were tolerable, but lacked any of the constant stimulation Fiyero needed to focus on his professor's droning voices. It was all the same, a long lecture on a certain subject, all the while taking notes, then a question portion, then reviewing notes. How dull, Fiyero reflected.

Life Sciences was his last lesson before lunch, and Fiyero was dreading it. But the anticipation was worse than the ordeal. Seeing his teacher fend off questions about her skin colour was saddening, almost. Considering she had to do every day. His heart gave a tiny squeeze at the expression on her face after the flurry of enquiries. He of course stayed very quiet in the back, a mouse hoping to be overlooked. But as Miss Thropp began to lecture on cell division, turning her back to the class to etch a diagram, his gaze went straight to her bottom. Fiyero tried to focus on her voice, and more specifically the words, but it was just as hypnotising as her behind. Low and honeyed, it flowed from her lips like warm milk. He felt himself falling under a heady spell, torn between propriety and recklessness. His head swayed, his eyes half-closed and his muscles slackened. His hands, previously clutching a rumpled quill, relaxed to loose, palms turned up towards the domed ceiling.

"Who can tell me about the formation of sex cells?" Miss Thropp didn't shy away from talks of prurient matters; she didn't stand for immature giggles. She was strong. She was clever. She was passionate. She was beautiful. She was sexy...

"Master Fiyero. Can you tell me about the formation of sex cells, since your classmates have suddenly and inadvertently changed to mice?" Her gaze over the top of her glasses was stern, and Fiyero felt warmth pooling to his trousers. He was suddenly aware that she had addressed him.

"I'd like to have sex." He blurted dreamily, unaware of his words. Or rather, the effect of his words.

As the class laughed at his dimness, Miss Thropp simply raised a sardonic eyebrow, a subtle quirk to one corner of her thin lips. No, not the eyebrow! He thought. Or the lips, those divinely crafted lips!

"Is that so? I'll indulge you this once, Master Fiyero. With whom?"

"You."

Silence didn't so much fall, as it smashed onto the shocked classroom, spreading awkwardness over the students. Miss Thropp's face went from mildly amused to shocked, and then from shocked to molten lava.

"Out of my classroom, Tigelaar! I will not stand for such disrespect. Wait outside the door until the end of the lesson, when I'll deign to speak with you." She screeched, and Fiyero was finally broken from his trance as he scuttled meekly from his seat to the doorway. Miss Thropp followed him to slam the door shut firmly. She stormed back to her platform, took a deep breath and turned back to face the shell-shocked class.

"The process involves joining together haploid gamete cells from each parent with half the normal number of chromosomes to make a new cell containing both parents' genetic material. This is a diploid zygote. Does everyone understand? No? I'll go over it once more."


	4. Punishment

That infuriating Tigelaar boy! Thought-spat Elphaba, pacing the floor of her lecture theatre. She had decided to let him stew outside for a good long time, to hopefully reflect on his actions. Maybe another professor would ask him what he had done to end up outside on the  _first day of classes_ , and he would be subjected to the humiliation of admitting he had told his teacher that he wanted to have sex with her. In a perfect world, he would end up with some detentions, maybe even a caution from Madame Morrible.

The nerve of him! Outrageous! How dare he! He should have obeisant respect towards her, a professor of all things. She had wanted to slap him, but the weight of the repercussions - and more importantly, the paperwork - halted her thirst for revenge by backhand.

Time to face the impertinant boy. Taking in several deep breaths, she swung the door open to reveal a drooping Master Fiyero, looking like a spanked puppy. He looked up and Elphaba had to stop herself from gasping as his brilliantine azure diamonds shone from his dusky skin, disappearing into his hairline and sparkling to under his collar. They were arranged in imperfect chains, interlocking and interwoven, unmistakeably tribal but at the same time sophisticated. Rough and smooth. Tough and tender.

Shaking her head, Elphaba banished the thoughts from her mind.

"What were you  _thinking_ , you stupid boy?! I am not some courtesan for you to mock and make disgusting remarks about. I will not be disrespected by anyone, let alone my student, who  _should_  respect me as his elder and better, not to mention his professor!"

"I-"

"What exactly was the nature of your remarks earlier, Master Tigelaar?" She snapped coldly.

"They were inappropriate, Miss Thropp, and I apologise for my words." Maybe his apologising skills were improving.

"Be that as it may, but how do I know you won't pull an imbecilic stunt like that again?"

"You don't." That silenced her. "You'll just have to trust me." His eyes implored her. Snorting, she crossed her arms tightly across her torso.

"Chance would be a fine thing." Elphaba scoffed. Out of the blue, Master Fiyero grabbed Elphaba's hand, holding it with both hands. An electric shock went through her entire body, sparks jolting to every orifice from their connected limbs.

"Please, Miss Thropp-"

"Get your hands off of me!" She shrieked, yanking her hand out of his grasp, but suddenly missing the warmth of his blue-diamonded hands. She spun around, her long plait almost whipping him.

"Miss Thropp, I-"

"You do anything else, Master Tigelaar, and I'll have you removed from my class and disciplined by the Headmistress." She warned.

"I'd rather be punished by you." His honesty had her blushing like a schoolgirl. Composing herself, she turned back to him slowly.

"Oh?" Elphaba raised her eyebrows, "And what do you suggest as your punishment?" Her arms folded, her armour drawing back up.

Master Fiyero suddenly smiled crookedly, set his smouldering eyes on her and slid smoothly closer to her. Elphaba stiffened. His azure eyes seemed to darken, the pupil threatening to swallow the iris.

"I can think of a few things, Miss Thropp." He breathed in her ear, his hand sidling closer to her own green one. Elphaba jerked it away.

"Don't make me slap you, Master Tigelaar." The threat hung heavy in the air, and Master Fiyero did retreat a step back.

"Well, what do you suggest?" He said, dropping the suave, seducer act.

"Extra lessons." A groan. "Fine, how about lines?" A louder groan. "Detention?!" She tried as a last resort. The crooked smile returned.

"I could go for that, Miss Thropp."

"Detention it is, Master Fiyero." She nodded curtly. "Out with you."

"Not even a goodbye ki-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll scalp you, boy." She hissed, a long green finger pointing under his chin. He swallowed, looking downright terrified.

"Come back here tomorrow at four. You'll spend two clock-circles in detention, during which time you will finish homework or any classwork you haven't completed, and you will do so in silence. Do you understand me, Master Fiyero?" He nodded quickly, eyes still on the finger.

"Yes, Miss Thropp."


	5. Names, Dreams and Sketches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some sexual content at the beginning, pretty mild stuff. Just a warning for those who dislike that sort of thing.

Miss Thropp leaned down to pepper Fiyero's sculpted chest with fiery kisses, creating a heated path across his blue diamonds. Fiyero moaned in response and his grip on her slim waist tightened, pulling her flush against his body. Tipping her chin upwards to find her mouth, he kissed across her jawline and her neck, travelling up to her lips. Her spicy scent, an essence of warmth and intrigue sparked at her pulse points, and Fiyero trailed his nose across her jugular, wishing to inhale her smell, remember it forever. Her hands locked around his neck, nails raking his scalp and quick gasps spurring him to hear more. He latched onto her collarbone, sucking at the delicate skin there. His teeth carefully scraped her soft skin, and her breathy moans turned to words.

"Fiyero… Fiyero… Fiyero!"

"Wuzzit? I don't want to stop-" Fiyero finally realized where he was. In detention. With Miss Thropp. And she was currently standing over him, hands on her hips, anger on her face.

"This detention is supposed to be used for completing schoolwork. Not daydreaming. Now get out some work and start it, please, before I have you writing lines." He hurriedly grabbed his satchel, pulling out a tangle of papers for Economics. Grasping for a quill, he only felt the leather at the bottom of his bag. Fiyero looked up sheepishly, drawing his hand from his bag.

"Miss Thropp? Can I borrow a quill?" he attempted a suave half-smile, in a vain hope of charming her. She didn't even look up from her marking.

"I know you  _can_ , Master Fiyero, but may you?" Fiyero sighed. A stickler for grammar. Of course.

"May I borrow a quill?"

"What's the magic word?" She had to be teasing him now!

"Please may I borrow a quill, Miss Thropp?"

"You may, Master Fiyero, at the cost of one shoe." Well, that was unexpected.

"A shoe? Why do you need a shoe?"

"Insurance. If you give me my quill back, you get your shoe back. I think it's fair." She finally looked up at him, smirking at his confused expression.

"But what if someone loses your quill?"

"Then they don't get their shoe back until they've bought me a new one." She held out her hand wordlessly. Fiyero sighed, undoing the laces of one boot. It does make sense, he supposed. Handing over the one boot, he received a quill in return. Sitting down again, he turned to his Economics homework. Fiyero's brain immediately switched to dull straw. He glanced upwards to Miss Thropp, who was still diligently marking papers. He felt irrationally jealous of those essays. They had her full, undivided attention.

The silence was punctuated only by the scratching of Miss Thropp's quill across the vellum and the shuffling of papers. So Fiyero decided to break it.

"Miss Thropp?" he called out nervously.

"Yes, Master Fiyero?"

"What's your first name?"

"None of your business Thropp."

"I won't tell anyone."

"Master Fiyero, even if you told the whole of Oz, that would still not be the reason why I refuse to tell you my first name. What would people say if they discovered a student was too familiar with his professor? You'd be expelled and I'd be sacked."

"I knew my other teachers' names at my last University." He tried.

"I am not "other teachers", Master Fiyero."

"That's for sure." He muttered quietly.

"I beg your pardon, Master Fiyero? Would you repeat that sentence?" Not quietly enough. The anger was building; he could see her spine straightening, ready to do battle.

"I said; "That's for sure", Miss Thropp." He lifted his chin bravely. He felt anything but.

"And what did you mean by that?" Her voice was controlled, but with an undercurrent of boiling anger.

"That you're not like other teachers."

"Pray tell, why? Because of my skin?" Fiyero realized what a massive mistake he'd made. He hadn't meant to insult her skin colour! He loved it! It was beautiful, gemlike, the colour of cut emeralds, sharp and smooth.

"No, Miss Thropp, never! I lo-  _like_  your skin. I think it's beautiful."

Nothing he could have said would have shocked her more. Her anger froze, her mouth slightly agape.

"What?" she said quietly. Fiyero locked eyes with her.

"I think it's beautiful, Miss Thropp. Her eyes searched his, rich brown scrutinizing azure blue for any sign of teasing or joking.

"Elphaba." She said after a few clock-turns.

"Pardon?" Fiyero was dazed after looking into her eyes for so long.

"That's my name. Elphaba Thropp."

"That's a beautiful name." Fiyero said goofily. She looked suddenly threatening.

"You will never call me by my first name. I am Miss Thropp to you."

"Understood, Miss Thropp." Both went back to their respective papers.

Staring despondently at his coursework, Fiyero sighed quietly. He couldn't be bothered to go and find his Economics teacher, even if Miss Thropp would allow him to leave. But her couldn't sit here, in suffocating silence for two clock-circles. An idea sparked in his mind, and his hand tightened around his borrowed quill. Fiyero stared and scanned and memorised her pointed features until inspiration struck him. Grasping a new sheet of paper, he started to sketch, capturing his professor carefully, immortalizing her in ink. Miss Thropp looked up, and seeing Fiyero scribbling away furiously, and she felt a little pride in her student. He was knuckling down, finally. She went back to her essays smiling.

Clock-turns passed, and Miss Thropp finished her stack of papers. As she stood up, Fiyero gently sketched in her hair, paying attention to the mesmerising way it fell at her shoulders, how it was arranged at her hairline, how little black strands collected at her temples, its deep, inky colour...

Miss Thropp obliviously filed the papers away carefully, ready for tomorrow's lecture. Spinning around to face Fiyero, she happily noted that he was still scratching away.

"Alright, Master Fiyero, let's see what's had you so absorbed for so long." She made her way over to his desk. Fiyero shot up in panic. He couldn't show her the drawing; she'd punish him properly for sure! But he had no other work to give her. It would look weird if he stuffed the entire thing in his mouth and her hand was on the corner and she was lifting it up and oh no...

He watched her face as emotions flitted across so fast he felt whiplashed. Fiyero's heart pounded loudly, clashing against his ribcage, pulsating through his entire body.

 _Lurline save me_ , he prayed.


	6. Ink Exchange

Elphaba felt the blood drain from her face. Her hands tightened around the edges of the parchment, knuckles whitening with the effort to prevent herself from ripping it apart. Carefully, she studied the sketch. Ignoring the fact it was  _her_ , it was a very good drawing. The ink flowed across the page, depicting her in an elegant, faerie-like fashion. Her large eyes sparkled and her hair was free, swirling artistically around her face. She touched her own plait, not quite convinced it was the same hair. Heart beating fast and eyes widening, she found the similarities. Black hair. Pointed features. Heavily shaded eyebrows. Dark eyes. The  _spectacl_ _es._ This was far too poetic to be innocent. Oh, Lurline above, she thought, what has possessed Fiyero to draw her like this?

"W-what in this Oz, possessed you to draw me instead of finishing your homework?" Finally breaking the long silence, Elphaba's voice was rusty, her throat dry.

"Well, inspiration, I suppose." Fiyero seemed utterly content, nonchalant even.

"Inspiration?" Elphaba squeaked. How would she deal with this? "How exactly will I explain why my  _student_  is drawing sketches of me to my superiors? Do you have any idea how much trouble this could get me in?" She thrusted the page into his face as panic set in. This finally seemed to break Fiyero from his worry-free state.

"T-this could get y-you in trouble, Elphaba?"

"Miss Thropp," she hissed, "and yes, it absolutely could. I could be sacked like that," she snapped her twiglike fingers, "if my superiors caught the slightest hint that a student and a professor were... fraternising!" Elphaba pushed the paper into his hands frantically, closing his fingers around it in a tight fist. She drew away after the short contact, not wanting to start any feeling that might become inconvenient in the long term. She began pacing, as was her usual way of dealing with stress. That, or burrowing it down into her and ignoring its effects.

"Burn it, Master Fiyero. No one can find this, or I could lose my job." Fiyero stuffed the incriminating sketch into his satchel, nodding energetically.

"I don't want you to lose your job, Elph- Miss Thropp." He caught himself.

"Good to hear. And I won't, if you burn that page right now." She was shaking, worried after the near glancing blow to her career. Fiyero stood, and moved towards her, sliding a strong arm around her narrow shoulders. Elphaba froze, ice creeping through her veins. She opened her mouth, but Fiyero rubbed his thumbs into the space between her shoulder blades and her eyes fluttered shut, soot-coloured lashes brushing her high cheekbones. A little moan began in the pocket of Elphaba's throat at the soothing massage, and Fiyero dug in harder, working out the coiled knots of stress in Elphaba's back. She sighed contentedly, feeling his fingers work away the tense worries. Eyes still closed, Elphaba didn't see Fiyero lean down to drop a soft kiss on the side of her neck. But she felt it.

"What was that?!" she spun around faster than was normally perceived as possible, and backhanded Fiyero's face sharply. The crack of skin on skin ricocheted around the classroom, and the Arjiki prince held his rouged-with-force cheek, feeling her hand still burning on his cheek.

"Elphaba-" he pleaded apologetically as he reached for her. She was incandescent with rage, anger pouring through her veins, burning and spreading throughout her body like wildfire. Her muscles tensed back up, her barriers came shutting down and her eyes broiled and swirled with the intensity of her emotion.

"Get out!" she screamed, flinging her hand towards the door.

Terrified, Fiyero fled.


	7. Fear

Fear rushed through Fiyero's veins like a schoolboy late for his first lesson. It pushed him to run faster, in an attempt to escape the inescapable fury of his Life Sciences professor. Dropping his hand from his smarting cheek, he used his arms to pump as he ran, so that the traction forced him forward faster.

Reaching Briscoe Hall and thus the safety of his lavish dormitory, he sped up the winding staircase, a cautious hand on the bannister. Bursting into his own chambers, he breathed an enormous sigh of relief. His back against the door, he felt a little safer. Only then did the weight of his actions crash down on him, giving him a generous gift of psychological concussion.

What in Ozma's name had he done? By kissing his Life Sciences  _professor_ , he opened himself up to inquiry from the School Board, from his superiors, from his parents and friends and from his subjects, when he ascended the throne.

It was only a kiss to her neck, he argued with himself. But a kiss nonetheless. And what a kiss it was. He could still feel the warmth of her neck on his lips; smell the peppermint sparks at her pulse points. She was inebriating, and she filled his every sense. He imagined her lips near his, so close he could feel her breath ghost across his jaw. He slid down to sit on the plush carpet, his back still against the door.

Drawing the crumpled sketch slowly from his satchel, he gazed at it. He couldn't ignore Elphaba's pleads to burn it, to avoid the loss of her job and the loss of his place at Shiz. Selfishly, he thought that if he didn't burn it, they would both be free from suspicious eyes and the ramifications of their positions of student and professor. And he could pursue her within the confines of the law. But if she lost her job, she'd lose her livelihood and her only income, Fiyero despaired.

But he could help her financially. But Elphaba was too independent for that. She didn't wear a ring, and she seemed to be too impatient to keep up any kind of relationship. Also, he'd be an abetter to the people who sacked her, and she'd hate him for it. She clearly loved her job, and he would be the lowest of all scum if he took that away from her.

Sighing, he crossed the room to his grand fireplace, and built up a fire. Lighting a match in one fluid movement, Fiyero held it to one corner of the parchment. You're doing this for her, he reminded himself. Gently placing it in the hearth, he watched it go up in flames. The corners curled and blackened, charred segments coming free from the paper. He stared long after it had burned to dust and ashes, the fire reflecting in his glassy gaze, dancing across his eyes.


	8. Her Own Personal Pitbull

A female teacher occasionally attracts lewd comments. A female, green teacher inevitably attracts lewd comments.

As Elphaba discovered on a Wednesday morning, walking across the green where students often flocked, for a chat or packed meal. Her bookbag full of essays slung across her thin chest and a pencil tucked into her sleek bun.

"Hey, Miss Thropp, are you really green all over?" Avaric catcalled, a smirk on his good-looking features. Elphaba didn't even dignify his jibe with a glance. Fiyero however clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger in check. He couldn't do anything for her, lest he make his attraction obvious. Galinda clucked disapprovingly at Avaric, wrinkling her flawless brow.

"Master Avaric, don't be so crude." She tutted, and continued preening herself in a handheld looking glass. Misses Pfannee and Shenshen simply giggled together, spurring Avaric on.

"Miss Thropp, is it true you were born with a coc-" Fiyero saw red. His control left him. His tight fist smashed into Avaric's jaw, knocking it to one side. Avaric bellowed incoherently in anger and pain, and gave as good as he got. A full out brawl began, both boys tearing chunks out of the other. Elphaba, as well as a few other professors rushed over to separate the two.

"Master Fiyero!" gasped Galinda, almost personally affronted by his vulgar lack of decorum, especially in such a public setting. Laying her delicate hand at her chest, she sighed in dismay, supposing that he was – after all – a Winkie. She had expected nothing less of Avaric. Pfannee and Shenshen scooted closer together and away from the quickly separated boys.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Elphaba shouted. Fiyero simply glared at Avaric, wiping his nose roughly with the back of his hand and sniffing forcefully. Elphaba couldn't help but notice he had a significant lack of injuries compared to Avaric. He was clearly an experienced brawler. But her real cause for concern that he had thrown himself at a boy who had publicly shouted rude comments at her. Surely not to defend her? He wouldn't...

Their eyes met. Elphaba melted a little inside at the look he gave her. It seemed to imply that Fiyero thought she was worth every fight, injury, brawl or scuffle. And he'd do it again, gladly. Still staring into his eyes, she demanded a response.

"I'm waiting, boys."

"It was simply a disagreement," Galinda stepped in, her tiny frame dwarfed by the hulking boys and lofty Elphaba, "right, boys?" Elphaba's eyes narrowed; she didn't believe that for a single clock-tick.

"Yeah," Avaric supplied, realising this was his way out, "Just a disagreement, right Fiyero?"

"Right." Fiyero said plainly.

"Do you intend to have another 'disagreement', boys?" Elphaba's tone made it clear she was not fooled, but she was letting it go.

"No, Miss Thropp." Chanted Avaric in the most banal fashion he could possibly muster. Elphaba resisted the almost overwhelming urge to roll her eyes at her student's theatrics. Instead she glanced guardedly at Fiyero. She couldn't spare him, or questions would be asked.

"How about you, Master Fiyero?" He had to hide the look of desire at the sound of his name rolling off her glorious lips, her mouth hugging the vowels.

"No, Miss Thropp." Fiyero did his utmost best to mimic Avaric's tone, in an attempt to deflect suspicion.

"Good. Continue with your lunch." Fiyero watched her leave. Elphaba moved with a sort of graceless elegance that entranced him. Her hips swayed the tiniest amount, but her feet planted solidly on the ground, not quite a stomp, but not quite a step either. His eyes followed her long after she had ducked into the Buttery, disappearing from view.


	9. Galinda

"Miss Thropp, could you give me extra assistance in Life Sciences?" The sweet voice chimed almost right next to Elphaba as she shuffled her collected essays neatly, tucking them into a Quoxwood filing box.

"Extra assistance, Miss Galinda?" Her voice was moderately polite, and betrayed none of the relief she felt that the girl was finally taking charge of her dwindling university prospects.

"Yes, Miss Thropp. I require additional tutoring. You do offer it, don't you?" Galinda said quite authoritatively. Elphaba didn't flinch, assuming it was simply the girl's Gillikinese superiority showing off its tail feathers like a proud peacock.

"Well, I suppose I could schedule some extra lessons for you, Miss Galinda. But you will have to work very hard." She warned. She had no desire to drag the Frottican through her degree.

"I understand that, Miss Thropp." Galinda's voice was still frosty, but she nodded.

"Good." Elphaba drew the tarnished Glikkun iron keys from a miniscule pocket in her bookbag. Ushering Galinda out gently, she locked the door after her.

"Come back here at 4. We'll spend one clock-circle an evening on your extra revision, Mondays, Thursdays and Saturday mornings. Does that fit into your schedule, Miss Galinda?" Elphaba faced the blonde head on as Galinda's brow began to fold in confusion.

"Well, I was to meet Pfannee and Shenshen for afternoon tea, but-"

"I meant your lessons schedule, Miss Galinda, not your social one." Elphaba cut across, sighing slightly. Not to despair too much, she thought. I'll make a scholar of Miss Galinda yet.

* * *

 

Galinda knocked on the door, rapping her tiny knuckles sharply against the deep brown wood.

"Enter." Came the automated reply. Galinda swung the door open tentatively, peeking out from the doorframe.

"Miss Thropp, I'm here for my extra lessons."

"Yes, I see. Take a seat." Elphaba gestured vaguely to the rows of seats rising slightly, which faced her desk and raised platform. Galinda had never seen a classroom so empty, so quiet.

"Do you prefer the silence, Miss Thropp?" She asked curiously, setting down a pile of pristine books. Elphaba glanced up from her shuffling of papers, surprised. But she answered still.

"Yes, I do. And you? How do you like to revise?"

"With music."

"What kind of music?"

"Popular music." Galinda was slightly confused at the line of enquiry.

"With lyrics?" Elphaba asked, tipping her head to regard Galinda over her spectacles.

"U-usually, why?" Elphaba's gaze was making her uncomfortable. Elphaba sighed.

"Studying with music that has lyrics tears your attention from your work. You can't focus on both." She explained gently.

"Oh."

Elphaba smiled at the dismayed expression on Galinda's face.

"Don't worry, just revise in silence and it goes in, and stays in." She gently poked Galinda's forehead, eliciting a comforted smile from the Frottican.

"Thank you, Miss Thropp."

"Not at all. It's my job to help you. Now what units are you having trouble with?" Galinda swallowed nervously.

"All of them." Galinda looked down in subdued shame, missing the widening of Elphaba's eyes as she realized the amount of extra work that would have to be invested in the girl. The green woman sighed quietly and pulled out one of Galinda's brand-new textbooks towards her desk.

"Let's begin, shall we?"

* * *

 

"Miss Thropp?" A tentative voice ventured to ask. Elphaba closed her eyes, after looking upwards, as if looking to guidance from above. Unamed God, please give me patience, because if you give me strength I may punch somebody, she thought. What was it with people interrupting a perfectly good silence?

"Yes, Miss Galinda?" she said wearily.

"Do you have favourites?" Well, that was unexpected.

"No. I don't like to favour some students above others. I think it's unfair to the ones who aren't the favourite." Elphaba said plainly.

"Not Boq?" The Munchkin was an avid student, eager and studious.

"No." The concept was almost laughable to Elphaba, and she smirked slightly.

"Not me?" Galinda blinked slowly, her moth-coloured eyelashes fluttering. Her voice became sweeter, like sugared honey. Elphaba raised an eyebrow at Galinda's blatant flirting.

"Is that how you're everyone's favourite? Blinking your lashes like there's something in your eye?"

"Well," said Galinda, vaguely disgruntled that her entrancing had been foiled, "it's worked for eighteen years. But honestly, no favourites? No one, not even – oh, I don't know – Fiyero?" Galinda meant him as a random student, but Elphaba's eyes widened and she panicked. Slightly.

"M-master Fiyero? Of course not! Why would you s-say that, Miss Galinda?"

"So he is your favourite?" Galinda saw Miss Elphaba's reaction as out of the ordinary, and astutely connected it to Fiyero.

"N-no! I don't have favourites!" Elphaba insisted.

"But you do prefer him over the other students." Galinda stated.

"No." Shaking her head and protesting vehemently, Elphaba felt her hands start to shake. "I do not favour Master Fiyero above any other student in my class, or this University. At all."

"Alright. Don't have an aneurism, Miss Thropp." Galinda muttered, lifting her quill once more.


	10. Nessa

"Of course, the blood contains thousands upon thousands of blood cells, both white and red. The red blood cells are what give blood its colour, predictably. Can anyone tell me where the nutrients are carried in the blood?" Lecturing steadily, Elphaba paced from one end of the battered blackboard to the other, tapping her spindly fingers upon diagrams and flow charts to emphasise her points. Wrapped up in the lesson, no one noticed a small woman shuffle awkwardly into the room with a practiced gait of careful balance. As a result, everyone jumped a mile when they heard a smooth voice answer their professor's question for them.

"Don't tell me, I know this. Oh, I learnt this so recently! Could it be... the plasma, Fabala?"

The woman's head tipped and her coffee brown eyes lifted upwards towards the heavens, as if thinking deeply and ponderously. She gave the perfect illusion of holiness, but not wholeness. For this girl was armless.

"Nessa? What are you doing here?" demanded Elphaba, wanting to know who had let her Nessarose wander without a steady arm to support her if needs be. She rushed to Nessa, gently guiding her by the waist and shoulder, knowing instinctively which areas to push that wouldn't hurt her pretty Nessarose.

"Class, I need to convene with my sister. Amuse yourselves quietly for a few clock-turns. I'll be back soon." Elphaba threw the instruction over her shoulder, still focusing on supporting Nessa.

Shutting the door behind her, Elphaba turned to her sister, who had sat down and arranged herself aristocratically, thin ankles crossed in the proper fashion for company.

"Nessa, my sweet Nessa, why are you here? Are you alone? Did Father let you wander Shiz on your own-" The onslaught of worried questions began to spill forth, but Nessa simply gave her sister the  _look_. This was an expression patented for when Elphaba got too fussy. Elphaba shut her mouth at once. Look how quickly I am submitting to her whims, Elphaba thought. Old habits truly do die hard.

"First and foremost, I am not alone. Nanny is with me."

"And where is Nanny?"

"Waiting in the carriage for me to come back with you."

"She let you walk in unchaperoned?" Disbelief tainted Elphaba's voice as her eyebrows lifted.

"Yes, she did. I must savour the small moments of my own independence." Nessa's chin lifted. She smiled delicately and motioned for Elphaba to sit down with a nod of her head towards the bench. The eldest Thropp shook her head. Nessa sighed heavily. Reluctantly, Elphaba perched on the very edge of the seat, simply to appease her baby sister.

"Why are you here, Nessie? Can't you see I'm teaching?"

"Yes, Fabala, but Father wants you home."

"And Father couldn't possible come to tell me this himself, my pretty?"

"Father is... preoccupied."

"With?" prompted Elphaba.

"Shell." Nessa answered shortly.

"Shell. Father is preoccupied with Shell, who is sixteen years old and perfectly capable of caring for himself." Elphaba stated, her voice monotone. She clearly didn't believe Nessa.

"You don't understand, Fabala. Shell only got worse after you told us you weren't coming home after Shiz. When you said you were staying to teach, Shell just lost every will to behave."

"I didn't realize I had quite that much influence on our baby brother."

"Stop it, Fabala. You know how he looks up to you. His strong big sister, who went to the best University in Oz."

"I seem to remember the words 'I won't miss you' escaping his lips."

"Arrant nonsense. He was just trying to be manly. He locked himself in his room after you left. Then his behavior began to worsen. The Unnamed God knows he was a mischievous boy from birth, but he just... gave up trying." Elphaba had missed Shell, but he wasn't her child, only her brother.

"Father is his parent, as well as ours, my pretty. Surely he should deal with what the Unnamed God sent him?" Nessa frowned disapprovingly at her sister for the gentle jab against her religion.

"You were his mother when he had none, Fabala. After Mother died, you were so strong. My earliest memory is of you rocking Shell in his swaddling clothes and singing a hymn to quiet him. It's my favourite memory too." The emotional guilt was carefully designed to press at Elphaba's weakness; her family, especially her siblings.

"I-" Elphaba started uncertainly, reconsidering. If Shell was as bad as Nessa said, shouldn't she go home? It was then she saw the triumph in her sister's eyes. And she realized.

Nessa wanted her sister back. Shell wanted his sister back. To care for them both, as she had always done. Father wanted his daughter back to care for her siblings, while he could gallivant after another one of his precious lost causes, shirking his paternal responsibilities. Her resolve strengthened, like hardening Glikkun iron.

"No."

"No, Fabala?" Now Nessa was uncertain. Victory had been so close.

"I'm not coming home to do Father's job for him. I'm sorry, my pretty, but I have my own life to live." She thought of her job, her apartment, her students. Nessa, previously a pining kitten, grew into a growling tiger.

"No? No?! You would see me and Shell starve and flounder without you?!" She stood up unsteadily, shaking with rage.

"Father is called that for a reason, Nessa! He is a parent, so he should parent." Elphaba tried to reason with her sister.

"You know he had duties outside of us, Fabala!  _Holy_  duties!" Nessa's religious zeal began to preach. Loudly. Within earshot of Elphaba's class.

"Nessa, my pretty-" Elphaba pleaded, reaching for her shoulder to hold and calm her.

"Don't touch me, Elphaba! Any wretched creature who would abandon her family in their hour of need should not be touched by a blessed hand!" Elphaba stopped, struck by her sister's harshness.

"I am not wicked, my pretty. Nor am I cursed."

"You are to me." Nessa hissed, no room for remorse in her voice. "Goodbye, Elphaba. I hope you enjoy your  _life_."

Nessarose Thropp, dearest sister to Elphaba Thropp, stalked away as best her armless body would allow, sparing not a single glance backwards.

Elphaba collapsed heavily on the bench, feeling her bones rattle with the force of her fall but not caring one whit. She put her head in her hands. Her shoulders began to shake.


	11. Comfort

"Look at her!"

"She's just sat down on the bench."

"Why?"

"Do I look like the Unnamed God to you? I haven't got all the answers!" Questions bounced and ricocheted from wall to wall, echoing the same banal sentiments. Galinda was the only one who saw Miss Thropp - her Life Sciences professor - break. The others simply saw a green woman and nothing else.

Galinda's saddened eyes began to fill with sympathetic tears just  _looking_  at the green woman. Nessa had clearly hurt her. As far as Galinda knew, there was no friend or lover or husband to send in to comfort Miss Thropp. And she couldn't send anyone else. Madame Morrible couldn't even fake a smile; the other professors seemingly ignored her teacher. The only one adequately experienced to console Miss Thropp was Galinda herself. Galinda sauntered forward a little self-confidently, ignoring the her classmates who had fallen silent as she put a small hand on the door handle.

"Galinda, what are you doing?" Miss Pfannee hissed. Galinda stopped walking to face the girl head-on.

"Are we so cold as people that we would ignore someone's pain? I'm going to comfort Miss Thropp." Pfannee wisely fell silent and several of her peers squirmed uncomfortably at the blonde's accurate assessment. Including, she noted, Master Fiyero. He glanced longingly at the door that stood between himself and their professor, his eyes yearning for her.

Galinda's matchmaking brain flipped into gear, running smoothly like oiled clockwork. Master Fiyero had himself a small infatuation with Miss Thropp! And Miss Thropp clearly returned his feelings, if a little better hidden to the outside world. Her stammering panic after the discussion on favourites proved it quite irrevocably. She toyed with the idea of sending him out to comfort her, but if he chanced anything it would be in full view of the student body. Better she than he to comfort a fellow woman.

Resolving to ponder the conundrum later in the safety of her dorm, Galinda pushed her way delicately through the crowd of onlookers and pushed the door open quietly. Miss Thropp was shaking almost imperceptibly, her green face hidden by her equally verdant hands.

"Miss Thropp?" Galinda nervously rested a hand on Miss Thropp's shoulder. After seeing no visible protest, she began to rub soothingly at her shoulder blades and sat down next the woman. She could hear Miss Thropp's gulping sobs. She had obviously practiced the art of crying silently. Her heart breaking for the green woman, Galinda slid her arms around Miss Thropp in a proper embrace, arms enveloping the skinny shoulders. Miss Thropp burrowed into Galinda's torso, snaking her arms around Galinda's middle and letting the sobs shudder through her body. Galinda muttered comforting sentiments softly in her ear, stroking her black hair away from her forehead. She rested her chin out top of Miss Thropp's head, and closed her eyes. Rocking gently to and fro, the Frottican tightened her hold on her professor.

The rest of the class stared, mouths agape, as Miss Galinda Arduenna of the Upper Uplands held Miss Thropp and let her cry herself out. The pink entwined with green, sharp lines blurring to smudge and create an almost marbled effect of the two soft hues.


	12. The Whole Sorry Tale

Holding Miss Thropp tightly in her arms, the Frottican felt her professor's racking sobs subsiding a fraction, and looked down. Miss Thropp had cried herself to sleep, eyes squeezed shut and still surrounded by tears. Galinda slowly looked back up in the direction of the door separating her from her classmates. Miss Thropp needed to go home for the rest of the day. She slowly mouthed 'Fiyero' and Shenshen and Pfannee pushed him through the doorway, ogling his behind as he went. He stumbled towards the two women, and knelt down to Galinda's height.

"What is it, Miss Galinda?" his voice hushed. His eyes stayed on Miss Thropp, Galinda noted absentmindedly.

"Galinda, please, and we need to get Miss Thropp home. She can't teach in this state." As she said this, her hand stroked gently at her teacher's brow. Fiyero was warming to the peculiar blonde, after seeing the tenderness in her gaze.

"You're quite right. Give her to me." He held out his muscled arms, blue diamonds on show. Galinda carefully settled Miss Thropp into Fiyero's strong frame, and he cradled the green woman into his broad chest, supporting her feather-light weight easily. Both students stood up, ignoring the pointed stares of their peers, and made their way to the Front Offices to sign their teacher out as ill.

The secretary on duty gaped at the sight of the ever-present, never-sick Miss Thropp, lolling against Fiyero limply. With eagerly given permission, they discovered her address.

"Oh, I know where that is," Galinda noticed with surprise, "it's not ten minutes away from my favourite tearoom."

The mismatched trio made their merry way to Elphaba's apartment. The two classmates stayed mostly silent, with polite conversation peppering the soothing quiet.

"She's not too heavy, Master Fiyero? Because I'm more than obliged to stop if you have need of a respite..."

"Not at all, Miss Galinda. Elph- Miss Thropp is very light." Galinda's eyes squinted suspiciously at Fiyero's verbal trip. Fiyero cursed himself silently. He just couldn't keep his damned mouth shut.

"Elph?" Came the piercing accusation. Fiyero sighed, well aware that he would have to explain himself to the petite socialite.

"Elphaba," he corrected, "Miss Thropp's first name is Elphaba." Fiyero braced himself for the ice storm of disapproval. Galinda stopped; clearly this was a matter that required the desisting of movement.

"And how do you know Miss Thropp's first name?" Galinda folded her arms tightly, an odd image for Fiyero; seeing someone so delicate perform such a strong gesture. It was a gesture more suited to Elphaba than Galinda.

"It's truly a long story, Miss Galinda." He (stupidly) hoped the blonde would leave it at that.

"We do have a long walk ahead of us. Indulge me, Master Fiyero; how did you come to know our dear Miss Thropp's given name?" The questions left no room for escape. Fiyero sighed despondently, and looked down at Elphaba's peaceful face. Sleep had soothed her anxious feature, smoothing her creased forehead. Then he noticed the dark green, almost ivy-coloured lines running down Elphaba's cheeks. On her they looked like tear-tracks, but no one had such a violent reaction to tears, surely?

"Galinda," Fiyero ventured, concerned, "look at her cheeks. What do those look like to you?" Shifting Elphaba into one arm and tracing a finger millimeters from her skin, he pointed to the tracks.

"Oh, goodness. They look like  _burns_ , Fiyero, but that means she burns from her tears, and that's impossible."

"Maybe not for a green girl." Fiyero noted softly. Galinda nodded solemnly, stroking Elphaba's hair. Fiyero shuffled Elphaba again to support her with both arms.

The pair marched on pleasantly enough, until Galinda realized she'd been distracted.

"Hey! You never answered my question, Master Fiyero!" Her hands went to her hips this time, and she stopped right in Fiyero's path. He tried to dodge her, but Galinda was smaller, and wasn't carrying a person. Fiyero gave up evading and decided to try a new tactic; honesty.

"I... I lov- like...You see, I'm enamoured... I like Elphaba." Head bent low in shame, Fiyero allowed the whole sorry story spilled out. Their first meeting, his ridiculous flirting, the detention, the sketch, the kiss and everything after. After he had finished, Fiyero shifted his feet awkwardly, having bared his embarrassed soul to the Frottican. She in turn looked mildly shell-shocked at such a barrage of information thrown her way.

"Well," she began uncertainly, "You certainly made an impression on her. Of sorts." Surprisingly, she laid a pale hand on Fiyero's shoulder, reaching up because of her diminutive height.

"I don't think what you're doing is at all intelligent, but I do understand. I won't tell, and I won't punish you for your feelings. This just developed all of itself. Besides, you fit well together. You complement each other." A hint of a wry smile graced her lips. Fiyero smiled nervously back, shaky with relief.

Reaching Elphaba's modest flat, the two climbed flight after flight of stairs, fished around for the spare key from the secretary and unlocked the door. A grey-white cat, so thin he looked as if made from spun glass, coiled his body around Galinda's legs, mewing for attention. She cooed in delight and eagerly reached down to pet him, leaving Fiyero to lay Elphaba down on her neatly made bed. Arranging the starched sheets around her body, Fiyero tucked her in gently. After stroking her hair from her face a few times, he debated internally about his next action.

Before he lost his nerve, he pressed his lips in a gentle kiss to his teacher's forehead. Galinda looked up from adoring Malky to see Fiyero's tender gesture. She retreated behind the screen door silently, pretending not to have seen, leaving Fiyero to his heartfelt moment.


	13. Fiyero Likes Me?

Bleary-eyed, with sleep gluing her eyelids shut, Elphaba cracked them open. She had the vague notion of being carried by blue diamonds, but that was ridiculous! Her dazed state panicked her, and she worried further when she realized she was still fully clothed. Why was she still fully clothed? And why was she safely in her bed if her last memory was of talking with Nessa?

Nessa. Her sweet, dependent baby sister. Elphaba could care for her anymore; she had a life of her own. A job of her own. Shell would have to grow up, and Father should stay at home to guide him, not wander off in search of converts to his fanatic faith. After all, she had had to navigate her teengae years alone and confused, whilst guiding Nessa through hers. She had supported her family first, forgetting her own needs. After nearly twenty years of selfless behaviour, didn't she deserve her own experiences?

Addressing the issue of her position and attire once more, looking down on herself, Elphaba picked up a slam of cupboard doors. Her head snapped upwards to attention and her heart began to pound. It came from the direction of the kitchen.

"Who's there?" Elphaba called, "I have a knife with me and I can scream for help." Fumbling to her bedside table, she curled her fingers around the polished handle of a hunting knife. Scrambling to get out of the tightly tucked sheets, she stood up swiftly. Stalking to the kitchen, knife in steady hand, she called again.

"Show yourself!"

"Will you stab me if I do?" The voice was far too young to be a robber, and far too female. Far too scared.

"Galinda?!" Elphaba asked in disbelief, "What in the name of all that is holy are you doing in my apartment?" The small girl shyly stepped into the light, one hand held up in surrender and the other curled around Malky, who was purring at the attention.

"Well, after I saw you had fallen asleep, Master Fiyero and I took you home. He went back to his own dorm, but I stayed here to keep an eye on you. Malky was hungry, so I went to see if you had any milk... I'm sorry for waking you up, Miss Thropp."

Elphaba stared at her blankly.

"Fell asleep? Why did I fall asleep?"

"You were crying." Galinda said softly, both hands cradling Elphaba's cat.

"Crying?" Elphaba repeated. Galinda gently dropped Malky, who started to coil himself around Elphaba's skinny legs, nuzzling at her calves. Elphaba paid him no mind, trying to sort out her blurred memories. The Frottican took a step closer to the professor.

"Yes, Miss Thropp. Nes- your sister had just left and you were crying, so I went to comfort you. You fell asleep after a while, having cried yourself out, I think, and Master Fiyero and I took you home." Galinda laid a hand on Elphaba's shoulder and steered her towards the kitchen table.

"I cried after Nessa left?"

"Quite violently. Most of the class heard her last words. I'm sorry they witnessed such a private moment, Miss Thropp." Galinda held Elphaba's spindly hands in her own. Elphaba was too numb to notice. Her students had witnessed the exchange between herself and Nessa. Galinda had seen, Fiyero had seen...

"How did you get me from Shiz to here?" Elphaba asked, finally coming to her senses. Her mind began to whirr and tick once more. Galinda was far too small to support her, but they could have paid a carriage driver...

"Master Fiyero carried you the entire way. I asked him if he needed a rest of some sort, but he refused. Said you were very light." Galinda noticed how Elphaba's cheeks began to flame darker and darker, the colour resembling holly leaves next to the emerald of her skin.

"He... c-carried me?" she choked out, finally. Galinda just nodded.

"And he's gone now?" Galinda wondered why Miss Thropp wouldn't say Fiyero's name. Some last-minute denial, perhaps, she wondered.

"Yes," Galinda stood up briskly, "Are you hungry?" Elphaba's curious eyes followed her.

"Not particularly."

"Come now, Miss Thropp. You must eat. How about some tea, and a piece of fruit?" Elphaba waved her hand at the blonde vaguely. Galinda took that as permission and began to potter, humming quietly as she did so.

What a surreal experience, Elphaba mused. Here I sit, in my own home, being mothered by a girl whom I teach and who is five years my junior! Before long, water was boiling and an apple had been chopped into neat segments on a beaten pewter plate. Before Elphaba could reach for a piece, Galinda had lifted one and was attempting to feed her professor by hand. Elphaba swatted her hand away.

"Miss Galinda! I am no invalid. I am perfectly capable of feeding myself." Cowed, Galinda handed the apple segment to Elphaba, who munched on it thoughtfully.

You need to tell her, nagged the voice in Galinda's head. She's completely oblivious to the fact that Fiyero is in love with her, carried her through Shiz for all to see, and kissed her forehead when he was sure she was safe. Worrying at a cotton handkerchief, Galinda picked at the initials sewn into the fabric. Opening her mouth, her bravery left her. Trying again, she managed to sputter;

"M-miss Thropp?" Her teacher turned to regard her, scratching Malky's ears.

"Fiyero likes you!" she blurted, before clapping both hands over her mouth. Elphaba's face did not change one iota. Inside, the turmoil reached monsoon levels, and she froze in panic.

"He... he called you by your given name, and I asked him how he knew it, and he said that he-he liked you."

"Fiyero likes me?" Her voice was so soft, Galinda had to strain to hear it. The blonde's eyes widened when she heard Miss Thropp's breath begin to drag erratically through her parted lips. Her thin chest collapsed into her torso.

"Miss Thropp, calm down. Don't work yourself up, now." Galinda got up slowly when Elphaba stumbled from the kitchen, intending to follow her.

"Leave, Miss Galinda," Elphaba said, her voice breaking, "I need to be alone. Thank you, but you must go now."

"Miss Thropp, allow me to-"

"No!" Elphaba shouted. Realising she had been too harsh, she softly whispered;

"No. Please, leave me be." Galinda stared at her sadly, before slowly collecting her possessions and moving towards the door.

"Goodbye, Miss Thropp. I'm sorry."

Elphaba shut the door for her, before collapsing against it, her head in her hands.


	14. Warnings and Kisses

Fiyero lay on his bed, staring up at the patterned ceiling. He reached up a hand to trace the neatly arranged circles, finding curious shapes in the creamy plaster. A quill, twirling in a slender hand. Even without colour, Fiyero knew whose hand he was imagining. Ignoring that thought, he moved onto another shape. But when one circle became an intelligent eye, he had to look away. Must everything he sees remind him of her?

* * *

 

Elphaba sat at her desk. It seemed to her that she spent the majority of her time at her gnarled, familiar desk, writing or marking. Sighing heavily, she regretted setting yet another paper for the class this week. They just rushed everything. Their points were poorly constructed, poorly continued and tapered off halfway through, trailing into a different subject altogether sometimes. The subject matter was simplistic and juvenile, often to do with photosynthesis instead of something that required deeper thought and studying. She couldn't remember shirking her duties as a student when she had attended Shiz. But then, she had had a lot of free time; her social life was barren and bare, compared to the flourishing and diverse gardens of others.

A muffled noise caught her attention, interrupting her train of thought. She glanced up warily, before freezing when she glimpsed a familiar dusky form. But she couldn't refuse him entry, for what kind of professor didn't listen to her students? Drawing her protective defenses around her, castle walls growing upwards, Elphaba resolved to be as curt as she possibly could manage, without coming off as impolite. She would project a front of cool collectedness, and forget the troubling, turbulent thoughts that Galinda had mentioned. That Fiyero like-

No.

Straightening her spine, she acknowledged the gentle knock on her door with a short bob of her head. Allowing him inside her classroom, and not her mind. Fiyero smiled lopsidedly, the corners of his eyes creasing with nerves and a small shred of hope. Elphaba ignored this expression.

"Did you have a problem with your work, Master Fiyero?" Clasping her hands directly in front of her centered Elphaba, feeling something to hold on to. Fiyero shook his head and Elphaba began to worry. What did he want to talk about? An extension for an essay? Extra lessons?

"No, Miss Thropp. I just wished to know if you were alright?"

"Alright?" Elphaba's nose wrinkled in confusion. Why wouldn't she be alright?

"Yes, after your sister left you were quite-"

"Ah, yes... yes, I understand. Yes, Master Fiyero, I am quite content." She cut him off quickly, not wanting to wallow in her sadness at her familial exile. He was sweet to consider her, though, her brain cooed treacherously. No, don't go there, don't do that.

"Are you sure, because you were crying, and you had track marks," he paused to trace down her cheeks, where the ivy-coloured lines had faded to a light jade. Elphaba could hardly move for panic at his closeness, "right here." He breathed, finishing his thought.

"Track marks?" Elphaba echoed softly.

"Yes, from your tears, I think. Do you have an averse reaction to your tears?" He drew his fingers back and Elphaba let out a silent sigh of relief, mingled with traitorous disappointment. Then she processed his question.

A tsunami of conflicting desires crashed over her, leaving her torn between being honest and being proper. If she was honest and told him of her ailment, she would open herself up to disgust and ridicule, not to mention the closeness between them would increase at the divulging of such a hidden, close-guarded secret. If she was proper, she would safeguard her job and her livelihood, but possibly lose Fiyero's confidence. This inward battle raged, while Fiyero stood patiently, waiting for a reply. The silence stretched uncomfortably, but Fiyero stayed calm and pleasant, not allowing the awkwardness to bury him.

"I have an allergy," Elphaba finally blurted, "to water. If it comes into contact with my skin, it burns. Like acid." She hastened to explain. The relief at finally choosing a course of action was quickly drowned by regret. Now he could reject her if he so wished, like old food gone rotten and spoiled. Her great vow of keeping herself to herself, never allowing anyone close enough to even touch her, to spill her secrets, had been fractured. Elphaba saw Fiyero's mouth move and hastened to focus on his words.

"You poor woman," Fiyero whispered, cradling her jaw as if she were a bewildered baby bird, broken and yearning for comfort, "Burned by your own sadness." His face came closer to hers, and her brown eyes widened, muscles tensing at his nearness. Fiyero gently kissed her left cheek, landing his soft lips right on one of the barely-visible tracks. Elphaba's eyes, previously staring at him wide and scared, fluttered shut at the sweet sensation of his lips against her skin. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, Elphaba experienced Heaven for a second time when Fiyero switched to her right cheek and repeated the action. Her mouth parted in pleasure, and Fiyero gently pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, emboldened by her reaction thus far.

But at this gesture, Elphaba's eyes flew open once more, terrified at the closeness of his mouth to hers. So near a kiss! her mind screamed at her in warning and in regret. Leaving Fiyero stumped at her abrupt change in demeanor, Elphaba scrambled for her book bag and fled the classroom. The Vinkun Prince stayed by her desk, cursing his forwardness. If only he could have controlled himself!

Now he had lost her to her essays and solitude.


	15. Reflection

Elphaba sat at her desk once more, marking papers. The essays were deeper, more thoughtful, and she felt pride begin to swell in her chest. Her students had come a long way. Galinda had noticably improved, when she wasn't doodling nonsense shapes. Were all her students artistically gifted?

Finishing with one, she gave it a forgiving grade, before pulling the next towards her in a kind of automated trance. The candle on her desk sputtered wildly, and she cursed. She needed the fat, thick ones, Ozdammit, not the slivers of tapers given to her. She scowled at the dancing flame, enraged it had dared to distract her from her current task. Glancing down at the essay to begin the sigh-heavy and weary process once more, Elphaba froze. In the flickering pool of yellowed light, Fiyero Tigelaar's name was just legible. Indulging herself for a brief clock-tick, she studied his handwriting. It was heavy with curls and embellishments, the "T" in Tigelaar rounded as to resemble a "P". The tail of the letters swirled in a practiced flourish, and had a smoothness- no, a steadiness that befitted a sure hand. He was an artist after all, she allowed, remembering his sketch of her. It would only make sense that his hand practiced the same patterns in his calligraphy as he did in his art.

The thought of the sketch left a bittersweet taste on her tongue. Such an innocent yet awkward gesture, which had such weight to it. That had consequences if it was ever found. Thank goodness he didn't colour it, or it would have been painfully obvious whom he had drawn. But the way he'd drawn her, full of swirls and poetry and romance, feelings and emotions she didn't want to fully comprehend, let alone acknowledge and embrace. It had the potential to become dangerous, and not just for her, for him as well. She could NOT fall for her student. It was frowned upon by so many mouths, and she heard reminders by so many tongues. She sat staring at his paper, reflecting on his and her interactions. Cursing silently, Elphaba came to the conclusion that it was a most dangerous union.

She had already decided to keep their tryst (As if I could really call it that, she scorned herself silently) a secret. Although she had sent him away, she had still let him do it. Telling her superiors could – no, _would_  - have disastrous consequences for him, and her. She could lose her job, a job she had fought so hard for, especially after Dr. Dillamond's  _murder._  It was murder, plain and simple, and her hands fisted at the memory. Such a bright soul and mind, snuffed out by the jackboot of oppression. No, not oppression,  _tyranny._  That was why she had returned to Shiz to teach. She couldn't allow Madame Morrible to poison Oz's young, impressionable minds. Even if her role was small, she still contributed to the play of Oz's fate, on the force for good.

Glancing down at Fiyero Tigelaar's essay, she sighed. He was one of the minds she was trying to free. But he was also working his way slowly into her heart.

I'm already half way there, she despaired silently. His stares, his sketch, his massage, his soft kiss to her neck, his act of taking her home and tucking her in, his renewed interest in his studies, his kisses... It all built up, like a battering ram, fashioned to shatter her walls and reservations. Did he do this deliberately, she wondered. Did he plan his actions, to lure her into a false sense of security? Or into his bed, maybe?

When she allowed herself to think of Fiyero Tigelaar, the conflicting torrent of roiling images and thoughts and feelings and emotions and wants and lusts broke forth, and they needed a colossal mental dam to hold them at bay. She imagined his hands, with those entrancing diamonds hiding in the crooks of his sturdy fingers, touching her body, holding her hand. Risking the possible contagion of her greeny skin. Her desires swelled, like the mystical sea's waves, rocking at her hull in steady patterns. She wanted him, mind, body and soul. She wanted him for her own.

But did he want her?


	16. Mutual Desires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to use my iaith (language) for Vinkun. Welsh is guttural and very old, with Latin roots. It is the oldest language in Europe still in use. Also I know it well.

Oh, sweet Ozma, did Fiyero Tigelaar want Elphaba Thropp. He wanted her, spirit and soul and body. Her blessed, glorious body, like an animal's, something not quite human, or of this world. Ethereal. Otherworldly. Perfect. She was like the Fae of his folklore, the  _Tylwyth Teg_ , the Fair Enchantress. Curious and dangerous. Ultimately seductive, but also oxymoronically innocent. Fae, he mused. Fae. The "ph" became an "f", and her code name was born, midwived by his besotted thoughts and nursed by his desires.

Her soul and spirit, the two entwined concepts. Fiery and passionate, shining and pure, nothing short of perfection. She could never do anything half-heartedly, it was all or nothing.

Lessons had become daily clock-circles of torture. Hell, honest-to-goodness damnation. Waiting pathetically for even a glance of acknowledgement, or a curt nod of approval, which were rare. Staring after her like a lovesick puppy, obeying her every command, however mundane, banal or mind-numbingly boring.

He would spend the lessons half paying heed to her, vying for her attentions, and half scribbling away, hoping for academic recognition, if he couldn't have her romantic attention. He didn't yawn in boredom any longer, he yawned from lack of sleep. Since his silent pact with himself to somehow win her attentions with schoolwork, he had spent a lot less time sleeping, and a lot more time revising. Strangely, it felt new, and exciting to learn. The human body was a fantastical machine, engineered for survival. Instincts of fight-or-flight, processes that retain water when the precious liquid is scarce. Fiyero became aware of his own body and its ministrations, but often found himself dreaming of Elphaba's heavenly body, waking up with a reaching, all-encompassing desire to simply hold her.

But Fiyero was decided. Instead of his inactive love, he resolved to pursue his prey. Gone were the days of yearning and waiting. He was a Hunter of the Thousand Grasslands after all. And love makes hunters of us all.

Crafting his latest essay carefully, he wove a secret message into it. He was positive Elphaba could decode it. She was genius level; she would have no problem with his simplified code. Reading over the page, he had to put in a few letters to throw any suspicious eyes. But this essay was for Miss Thropp's eyes. Her rich brown eyes, so expressive and warm, so fiery and passionate. He wanted that passion directed at him, he wanted  _her_  directed at him. Holding it in his ink-stained hands, Fiyero closed his eyes, and prayed for a response.

* * *

 

_I love you. Please let me talk to you. Properly. I cannot go on being ignored and cast aside. Tonight. Classroom. Please._

Elphaba's breathing began to rise. Near hyperventilation, she stuffed the code-essay into her bookbag; hands scrabbling fasten the clasp, to hide it. The audacity of him! She couldn't meet him, like some lovestruck schoolgirl behind the stables. He had to be ignored. This... schoolboy crush, this infatuation would end, fade away, Fiyero would graduate and go back to the Vinkus to rule and she would go back to her books and her lessons and Malky. Nights of solitude, filled with cups of coffee and chalk, flickering candles, leaky quills and poorly written papers.

The walls of her heart constricted painfully, contracting in heartache so strong it physically hurt. Her torso collapsed in on itself as she pressed a hand to her aching chest, gasping at her heart's sudden response to the life she had always imagined for herself. Why was she having this reaction now? Her life, however banal, had been her destiny. Something she was so sure of, she would not factor romance in it at all. One Fiyero Tigelaar was the guilty party, the culprit. He had made her dream for a future without suffocating solitude. Her loneliness threatened to overwhelm, to flood her head, heart and self, until she knew nothing of love or even companionship at all. Her resolve crumbled, and her walls tumbled down with it, leaving onle ashes and rubble. Her newly exposed heart beat hopefully.

Elphaba sat at her desk, and waited.


	17. Release

It took Fiyero three attempts to open the door and walk into Elphaba's classroom. His hand would always reach for the doorknob, before drawing away quickly, as if burned.

Finally he twisted the handle quietly, and swung the heavy door slowly. What greeted him was a sight that made him thank every God in existence, and all that weren't.

Elphaba was sat at her gnarled desk, eyeing him carefully. Her posture was rigid, almost like she was guarded. He couldn't see them, but her hands worried at each otherbelow her workspace, nails picking at ragged cuticles. Steeling herself, she brought her hands up to rest on the desk, forcing herself to keep them still. She had taken off her glasses, and he had the full glory of looking deep into her eyes. The liquid pools of deep brown, speckled with mica stared back into his own azure blue eyes.

Finally he reached her desk, and carefully, slowly held her hands. She looked down at them, blinking at blue diamonds interwoven with emeralds. She stiffened slightly, feeling the warmth of his palms permeate the membrane of her skin. Elphaba forced herself to relax at the casual touch. It felt good, his skin against hers. Sinfully good. Wrongfully good.

"I can't do this!" she cried, ripping her hands from his grasp. Standing up abruptly, Elphaba began pacing across the rostrum. Fiyero jumped up to follow, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Elphaba, I lov-"

"Don't you dare say you love me! You don't even  _know_  me!" She cut him off, spinning around to face him head-on and twisting to throw off his well-meaning hand.

"I know enough." He remained steadfast. He was sure in his feelings for her.

"What do you know of me, Fiyero?" That sounded like a challenge. He felt a tiny thrill at her dropping his honorific. He advanced slowly on her, looking her in the eyes, trying to convey his sincerity. She backed away steadily, matching his pace step for step.

"You are stubborn, and passionate. You love Life Sciences and you want to teach the young minds of Oz. You like apples and bitter coffee. You hate ignorance and comments about your skin. You live alone, and you are beautiful. I love you." Elphaba had reached the wall now, her back pressing against the comforting coolness. Fiyero stepped the last step, closing the distance between them. They were fairly equal in height, Elphaba only a few inches shorter than Fiyero. Tentatively, he cupped her cheek, thumbs drifting across her cheekbones. Fiyero could hear her ragged breathing. He gently tilted her chin upwards and looked into her eyes. They sparkled like stars breaking, like her soul was shining through. Then, Fiyero lovingly let his lips descend onto hers.

As their lips met, sensations exploded through their bodies, electric currents sparking through their veins, reaching every fingertip, every toe, every nerve. Elphaba's eyes fluttered shut. Beginning soft and gentle, Fiyero pressed his mouth to Elphaba's harder, feeling her respond in kind. Her hands reached up to lock in his hair, and his moved to her slender waist. The kiss deepened, and their mouths opened mutually, Fiyero's hot breath ghosting across Elphaba's jawline, causing her to shiver. Elphaba's fingers tightened in his hair, nails gently raking his scalp. Fiyero broke away abruptly to kiss her jaw and neck. Elphaba moaned, feeling his heated kisses across her jugular. It was wicked; to be able to give in to temptation so freely. He moved down to her collarbone, sucking on the delicate skin, and Elphaba opened her eyes slowly, and gasped softly at the gentle scraping of teeth at the spot where neck met shoulder. She pressed her front against Fiyero's torso, feeling the taut muscle there and sighing in pleasure as their bodies connected. The sparks of electricity danced across her skin where he touched her. Looking up in content, her heavy-lidded eyes happened to fall on Dr. Dillamond's portrait. His gaze, so benevolent and forgiving, pierced her, and she shoved Fiyero away.

"What was...? Elphaba!" Fiyero was confused. She was moaning in his arms not two clock-ticks ago, and now she pushed him away.

"I can't do this, Fiyero. You could get in so much trouble." Her voice was thick with tears and she had wrapped her skinny arms around herself. She couldn't break right now, she had to hold herself together.

"I don't care, Elphaba. I love you, I  _want_  you." He went back to her, and enveloped her in his arms. She fought, to begin with, thrashing her arms, wheeling and throwing fists. Every time she pushed against him, Fiyero tightened his grip.

"You... have... to... go, Fiyero!" Elphaba twisted like a cat in panic, "Let go of me!"

"Never. This is my choice, Fae. I have decided it, and I embrace it. Accept that and accept me, for I am your willing slave."

"I am not your mistress, I am not your lover- wait, Fae? Where did that come from?" Her own tongue interrupted her tirade.

"From the "ph" of your name. Same sound; different letter. And you remind me of the Fae of my folklore, the  _Tylwyth Teg_. The fair Enchantress."

"I am most certainly not an Enchantress, nor am I fair. Go to a chapel, Fiyero, for you have lied and must confess." Elphaba crossed her arms.

"You've enchanted me, and you are beautiful. I think it wise to call you fair."

"I did no such thing! Sorcery is theatre, parlour-tricks, it smacks of the pleasure faith. I have no such power-," Fiyero knelt down on one knee and she trailed off, "Fiyero, what are you doing?"

"You have power over me. I love you, Elphaba Thropp. I will love you until my last dying breath, to my last moment in this Oz. I will love you until the skies end, when the stars break and burn, and the mystical sea boils and swallows us whole."

The classroom was deafeningly silent as Elphaba processed these words. Brown stared into blue, and blue stared into brown.

"How?" Elphaba whispered. She stepped closer to Fiyero, and grabbed his hands, pulling him up to her height. Trailing her hands from his up his arms, following the blue diamonds, drifting her fingertip up his neck, she held his face gently, thumbs following his blue diamonds.

"What do you mean, 'how', my love?" Fiyero caught her thin hands, feeling a thrill at being able to do so at long last, and to call her his love.

"How did you ram my walls down? How did you get past my barriers? How did you make me fall in love with you?" Her voice breathed, as if the subject matter was so delicate and fragile that it would shatter if she used her voice fully. Fiyero only smiled lovingly and held her face delicately as he kissed her softly, chastely.

" _Fy nghariad, fy myd._ " He whispered in her ear. Elphaba shivered, her entire form shuddering with pleasure at the guttural, raw and emotive words.

"Is that Vinkun?" She breathed back, stroking his cheekbones. Fiyero nodded, and kissed the spot under her earlobe. Hearing her quiet sigh, he smiled into her neck.

"It means my love, my world." He felt her tense in his arms, and subconsciously tightened his hold on her in response. Elphaba blinked slowly. Don't run, Fiyero's mind screamed. My heart can't take it if you leave me, it pleaded silently.

Elphaba's mind slowly, but surely calmed itself, and she simply nestled herself closer to Fiyero. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, happy that she had accepted his love so readily.

" _Rwy'n dy garu di,_  Fae." I love you, Fae. Elphaba simply smiled, beautiful lips curling in contentedness.


	18. Guilt

The next lesson Fiyero Tigelaar had with Elphaba Thropp was eventful, to say the least. After confronting the rising tension between the two, the air was calmed and still, with no rigidity or clenched fists to distract from wild, yearning fantasies. Elphaba would occasionally send a secret smile in Fiyero's direction, and praised him whenever he answered a question correctly, which was more often than not, after nights lost to schoolwork.

"How many of you consider love an emotion?" was Elphaba's first question of the class. Three-quarters of the class raised their hands, including Fiyero. Elphaba smiled slightly and continued.

"And how many of you believe love to be a series of chemical impulses, triggered by hormones?" The remaining quarter of the classroom firmly put up their hands. Elphaba's eyes zeroed in on Boq, who had curiously raised his hand at both questions.

"Master Boq," she called, "You raised your hand at both statements. Do you believe in one or the other?" The Munchkin boy blushed, colour rising in his shiny cheeks.

"I believe that the scientific description is right, Miss Thropp, but I also believe there to be more to it than simply chemicals." His curly head automatically turned to Galinda, who had, unsurprisingly, raised her hand at the first question. This silent admittance of his hidden feelings for the blonde socialite was greeted with a cool ignorance of the smitten boy. Galinda had been trying in vain to dissuade Boq from his affections for her, especially after a long, lovelorn and poetic spiel to her enchanting beauty. Boq wilted a little at her frosty reception.

Elphaba missed none of this, but she was loath to address it. She was not a professor who enjoyed embarrassing her students. They were here to be taught, not humiliated. Letting it slide, she moved swiftly on.

"Do you all consider every kind of love to be pure?" A bevy of nodding heads answered her. But a piping voice called;

"It depends on the situation, Miss Thropp." Galinda maintained firmly. Elphaba raised an eyebrow in appreciation. Apparently some of her students thought before answering after all.

"Well-observed, Miss Galinda. The early Unionist fathers wrote essays on the nature of love, and found their theory within different kinds of love. For example, Agápe is love in the spiritual sense. This is often believed to be a 'meeting of souls' or 'true love', as it were." She glanced briefly at Fiyero, who was paying rapt attention. She cleared her throat, mildly uncomfortable at his gaze.

"Can anyone give me another example?" Her eyes scanned the rows of students. A strong, pale arm entered the air.

"Yes, Master Avaric?" Elphaba was surprised at this development in events. Avaric had stayed mostly silent since his and Fiyero's heated brawl in the green.

"Éros, Miss Thropp. Lustful, impassioned love." Slowing his speech, hugging the words with his mouth and deepening his voice, Avaric was set on making his teacher uncomfortable. Elphaba mentally sighed at his theatrics. Although he was correct, it had to be Avaric who turned the discussion onto sexual matters.

"Correct. It is pure emotion and desire, without logic or reason." Avaric drooped slightly at her unaffected manner.

"There is also Storge, Miss Thropp, meaning the love between parents and offspring, siblings and families." Boq waved his hand for attention. His textbook answer pleased Elphaba, and she smiled at the boy.

"Well done, Boq. This is also true. But consider this; what if the lines were to blur, and one found themselves attracted to their parent or sibling? This is surely taboo, isn't it?" The class began to murmur, and Elphaba grinned at the success of her experiment. This would fuel a good debate.

"Discuss, class, for ten clock-turns, then we'll have some feedback."

The class fell into discussion, the hum of voices rising and echoing in the domed ceiling.

Elphaba moved back to her desk to rub out a diagram. After this discussion and feedback, she would dismiss her students early, and she could rush to the Buttery for a quick cup of coffee. Her ears picked up the discussion between Miss Galinda and Masters Boq, Avaric and Fiyero.

"Surely love between siblings is wrong, Master Fiyero?" Galinda blinked up at the Arjiki Prince. He winced, and admitted;

"I cannot pass judgement on this practice, my friends, as my culture - at one point - encouraged union between close relatives." Galinda's mouth dropped open in shock at such a tawdry practice, and Elphaba turned not one hair. The Arjiki were few, she reasoned. It makes sense that they encouraged inter-marriage, to keep the bloodline pure.

"Let us debate another issue," Boq hastened to move on, worried that Miss Galinda would insult their foreign friend, "What of love between an individual and another in a position of care, such as a doctor or a teacher?" Both Fiyero and Elphaba stiffened at the dangerous turn in conversation. The green woman's ears strained to catch every syllable uttered by the Charmed Circle.

"I think it's an attractive notion." Avaric drawled, lazily allowing his eyes to wander towards Elphaba. Fiyero noticed this and his fists clenched, molars grinding together in anger.

"Not only is it wrong, Master Boq, it is illegal." Galinda said firmly, ignoring Avaric. Elphaba's heart dropped at her feelings for Fiyero being classed as 'wrong'. Fiyero felt equally uncomfortable, and couldn't stop a glance towards his teacher's back. Elphaba stayed facing the blackboard, rubbing at a non-existent smudge of chalk, her chest heaving. Galinda turned concerned eyes towards Fiyero, and then narrowed them at his panicked expression. Had something occurred since Miss Thropp's breakdown and this lesson? Had Fiyero confronted his love for his unattainable professor?

"I see your point, Miss Galinda, and it is an excellent one," Boq continued obliviously, throwing in some sweet flattery, "but do you agree that any love can be pure and true, when given the opportunity?"

Galinda thought back to Fiyero's caring kiss to Miss Thropp's unaware forehead. Remembering his expression of pure love and concern, she faltered.

"Well, Master Boq, I do agree. When given the chance, something that may start out as wrong can turn into something beautiful and pure."

Elphaba and Fiyero simultaneously relaxed a degree. Galinda wouldn't tell, nor would she condemn. They were safe, in that moment.


	19. Dangerous Liasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot quite how wordy I was, Jesus. This is the chapter in which they have sex.

Elphaba and Fiyero continued to dance around each other, almost brushing before falling into other partners' arms, torn away by schoolwork and lesson plans, teacher conferences and social gatherings. By the time a week had passed, Fiyero's desires had reached their tipping point. If he didn't talk to her soon, he would surely slip up in front of his peers, with disastrous consequences.

Salvation arrived in the form of an essay. Elphaba's feedback on his paper discussing the differences between Animal and animal tissue glowed with praise at such a mature subject, and an invitation to talk about the matter after class that afternoon. On Fridays, Fiyero conveniently had Life Sciences last, and his whole being yearned for that moment when he and Elphaba could be together. Little did he know, his own feelings were mirrored in Elphaba's body. Although her self-control was sewn from Glikkun iron and steel, it had admittedly begun to slip, leaving her thrumming with desire to be held close by Fiyero, warm and wanted.

Rushing through his tasks like a whirling dervish, Fiyero scribbled his notes in record time, somehow not missing one single point. Elphaba however seemed nonchalant, going from student to student, checking work and notes, suggesting ideas and themes. She included Fiyero in the mix, to deflect suspicion, and the clandestine stares between the two were hot enough to melt Elphaba's cast-iron control like butter on warm bread.

Eventually, the tired but jubilant peers trickled out of the classroom, leaving for beds or even a night out for the resilient individuals. Fiyero dismissed his friends' pleas of a gathering at the Peach and Kidneys, saying he planned on revising all evening, and was not to be disturbed.

Elphaba dared not to even briefly glance at Fiyero, who left the classroom without a glance to Elphaba. She had heard his excuse to his friends, and felt guilty at tearing him away from his peers. But her deep yearning for him, and the heat building between them, as well as between her legs, couldn't be ignored any longer. Tidying up her classroom deliberately slowly, taking her time over the collecting of papers and forgotten quills, Elphaba distracted herself with mundane tasks. Breathing in deeply, she gathered her own belongings, arranging them neatly in her bookbag. After looking around one last time, Elphaba's eyes fell on Dr. Dillamond's portrait. She felt guilty again for ignoring the plight of the Animals in favour of Fiyero.

"This won't change my mission," she whispered to the painting, "I won't let it."

Only one night, the voice in her head echoed. Just one night.

Her attention swiveled to the door, when she heard a soft knock. Turning slowly to face her student, Elphaba held up a hand, palm forward. Fiyero took the gesture as  _wait_ , and obediently stood outside. Shouldering her book bag and palming her keys, Elphaba met Fiyero at the door. Just one night.

* * *

 

"I'm afraid I don't have time to talk with you on your essay tonight, Master Fiyero. Perhaps another time." Meant as a consoling gesture, Elphaba laid a green hand on Fiyero's forearm, while secretly slipping a note into his hand.

"I understand, Miss Thropp," Fiyero said pleasantly, tightening his grip on the paper, loving the feel of Elphaba's fingers gliding through his, "Good evening." The two parted ways, going in opposite directions. Fiyero waited until he was near the Buttery on the far side of campus, before opening the note.

_Meet me at mine tonight. Soon, my love. Fae._

Breaking into a smile at the invitation, the term of endearment and the use of his nickname for her, Fiyero accepted silently. He was special in the eyes of Miss Elphaba Thropp, and he felt a desire to earn her trust, as he wouldn't have it any other way. Hurrying towards Shiz, he forced himself to walk slower, to avoid stares or curiosity at his destination. Fiyero was lucky that he was not usual University age, young and impressionable. After three schools had removed him, he was, at twenty, older than most students, so his age wasn't in question as he roamed.

Reaching the dark alley where Elphaba's flat hid, he climbed rickety stairs, wincing at every creak and groan. After meeting at the beaten door, he knocked a simple rhythm, signaling his arrival.

* * *

 

Glancing upwards at the confident knock, Elphaba's heart leapt into her throat. She usually didn't have pangs of uneasiness after a difficult decision, but this decision had to be weighed very carefully, and operated in the same manner. One slip-up could lose Fiyero's place at Shiz and her livelihood, at best.

Burying her irksome doubts, she opened the door, ushering Fiyero in quickly. Once the door was firmly shut, bolted and locked, Elphaba turned to face her student. The sight of Fiyero, blue diamonds and all, majestic and proud in her humble apartment made Elphaba almost run over to be close to him. Instead, she waited as he looked around her home. Picking out the trappings of her job (mugs of coffee in the sink, essays from other classes piled high upon her desk, files full of lesson plans), Fiyero marveled at his whereabouts. He was in his professor's home, private and secretive. He, above anyone and everyone, had the privilege of knowing Elphaba Thropp outside of her classroom. Facing her, he strode over to wrap his arms around her, his heart skipping when she wound her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He watched her warm brown eyes slide closed, and a soft sigh escape her lips in a puff of air.

"Elphaba-Fabala-Fae," Fiyero breathed, "I love you." Elphaba melted at his pet name, and in a rush of sudden heat, pushed him towards the wall, pinning him there with her lips. Her hands travelled from his neck to his chest, clutching at lapels before sliding back to rake her fingernails through thick hair. Fiyero kissed back in passionate response, mouth molding to hers. His own hands wandered from her slender waist to cradle her face, then back down to clutch at her jutting hips. Pulling her flush against his body, Fiyero moaned into the kiss, feeling the flood of dancing sparks through their connected limbs. Breathing heavily between frantic kisses, Elphaba moaned as Fiyero kissed down her throat, planting his lips at her pulse points, which thudded loudly in her ears. Her breath caught in her throat as Fiyero unlaced her dress, sliding the fabric away from her torso, and kissing where flushed emerald flesh was visible. She was warm, very warm. Too warm.

"Fae," Fiyero gasped, wrenching himself away from her inviting body, and attempting to ignore the noise of indignation Elphaba made, "You're too hot."

"You're too hot too, Fiyero," she purred, stroking the planes of his muscled chest over his stretching, tight shirt.

"No... well, thank you, but I mean your temperature, Fae. You're burning up." Feeling her forehead tenderly, Fiyero frowned in concern.

"I'm fine, my heart. I feel perfect." Joining their mouths again, Elphaba pushed off her dress to reveal her small breasts. Fiyero groaned as he palmed them, feeling the soft weight, and Elphaba pushed herself closer to him, kissing fervently. Her mouth opened, a clear invitation, and Fiyero dove in eagerly, his tongue exploring the contours of her mouth and lips, dragging his canines across her bottom lip. Elphaba growled in response and fumbled at his buttons, undoing his expensive shirt frantically, and yanking it over his shoulders. His chest was open to her now, and Elphaba began to create a heated path of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the planes of his chest, kissing every diamond from his face to his abdomen. Fiyero's head tipped back in pleasure, but snapped back to attention when her felt the buckle of his belt clink softly. Looking down, his eyes found Elphaba unzipping his trousers, maneuvering the waistline over the growing bulge in his groin. Stepping out of his clothes, he picked Elphaba up gently, and sped into her room, not letting their lips part. Collapsing onto the bed, the pair explored each other's willing bodies.

Elphaba planted her hands on Fiyero's chest to steady herself, before swinging a leg over him to straddle his hips. Her damp core teased at his covered member, and he groaned at the delicious friction as she started to grind. Unable to take any more blatant teasing, Fiyero flipped Elphaba onto her back swiftly, pulling his pants off and tossing them into a corner carelessly. He took greater care with Elphaba's underclothes, sliding them off slowly to allow her time to protest if she changed her mind. None came, and Fiyero continued his ministrations. Kissing softly down her divine body, Fiyero heard the soft beginnings of a lust-filled moan, and with a kiss at her nipple, received a full one. Sensing a pressure point, Fiyero latched onto a breast, suckling it gently. Elphaba's hands flew to the back of his head, to keep his mouth on her teat. Scraping teeth gently across the hard tip, Elphaba bucked her hips wildly to meet Fiyero's with a loud gasp, eyes wide. Her skinny thighs parted of their own accord, and Fiyero trailed fingers through the spangled curls between her legs, earning a wild mewling sound from Elphaba.

Both entirely naked, their eyes met. Soul-searching brown regarded intense azure, and with one final kiss, they joined. Fiyero went slowly, allowing Elphaba to adjust to his length. A haze of lust descended at the sensations caused in their union. Thrilled at the feel of him, Elphaba's sounds of appreciation grew in frequency and volume. Continuing to kiss passionately, Fiyero reached her barrier. Halting for a moment, he looked to Elphaba for confirmation, that this was what she wanted.

"Please, Fiyero. Make me a woman. Make love to me." Her desires spread out before them. Fiyero thrust carefully with his mouth on her breast, in an attempt at distraction. She stiffened, and drew in breath sharply, feeling the pinpricks of pain.

"Oh, Fae. I'm so sorry." Fiyero whispered, hating himself for causing her pain.

"It's fine, just... just don't move until I tell you." Came the strangled response. Fiyero kissed her softly as he waited. After a few clock-ticks, she nodded mutely. Fiyero finally filled her, and began to thrust gently, making up for the pain with intense pleasure. Elphaba began to buck her own hips up to meet his thrusts. Wrapping her legs around his waist, both groaned at the change in angle that allowed Fiyero to hit new spots and stimulate Elphaba further. Although it had initially been painful, their union was fast becoming all encompassing. Groans filled the humid air, and Fiyero sped up, pounding into Elphaba with long thrusts. His hand crept down to her clitoris, and began to rub in sweet little circles. The heat built like a rising flame, and Elphaba's gasps gradually grew in volume. The sensations flaming in her core settled heavily in her lower abdomen, and Elphaba could feel its delicious weight travelling to her most private area.

"Fiyero... Yero, oh, Yero!" Heaving gasps turned into words, and soon Elphaba was screaming his name in ecstasy. Fiyero moaned as he continued to push into her. Elphaba seemed to be tightening as her orgasm reached its climax, sending him over the edge with her.

"Oh, Fae!" With a final long thrust, he spilled his seed into her, shuddering with pleasure. Slick with sweat and gasping for breath, the two new lovers shared one last kiss, before nestling together to fall sleep. Fiyero heard Elphaba muttering through a sleepy haze and focused on the words. Upon hearing them, his heart melted.

"I love you, Yero my Hero."


	20. Repercussions

A dozing Elphaba veered towards consciousness, eyelids fluttering and heavy with sleep. The night's rest had been wonderful; disturbance-free, no Malky curled up on her neck, no robber breaking in to her home in the small hours of the morning. Stretching deliciously, her back arched in one luxurious movement, and she fell back onto the soft mattress, content. Her spindly fingers splayed out and wriggled, curling in the bed sheets. Green fingertips met a solid form, and Elphaba shot up in surprise. She wasn't alone.

Sleeping like a baby next to her, with his arms wrapped snugly around her, front to front was Prince Fiyero Tigelaar, Heir to the Arjiki Tribe throne. Oh, holy Unnamed God, Elphaba panicked. I slept with a prince. Worse still, I slept with my student!

What had possessed her to pursue such an unattainable prize? She surmised she was just nearing the time of month that sent even her wanting.

Time of the month.

Oh,  _fuck_.

Contraception was limited in Oz. Only prostitutes used such apparatus, and respectable young ladies, or recognizable young ladies (such as she) were not to be seen fraternizing with the lower dregs of society. She didn't believe in all that nonsense of some being higher than others in class. Her mother had hated her privileged life and had fought to escape it, not wanting the same for her children. But more to the point, there was no contraception apart from abstinence.

That policy had worked for her for years, ever since she began her monthly courses. Since no one would ever show an interest, she was safe from sexual matters. It had never pained her, her virginity, until very recently. Until the arrival of Fiyero into her classroom, life, and heart.

He had broken her, then pieced her back together, fashioned to love him with all of her heart and spirit and soul, however nonexistent the last concept was in her case. She loved him, and they had shared that love last night. She had allowed him into her body, and her bed, and then they had nestled together and slept peacefully.

Still sleeping unaware, Fiyero groaned and shifted, tightening her grip on Elphaba's waist. She drew in a sharp breath, feeling Fiyero nuzzle his chin into the crown of her head, breathing in her scent.

"Good morning, Fae." Growled his husky voice. Oh, Oz, Elphaba thought, that voice was beyond desirable. Her more rational side scolded her sharply for thinking such thoughts. But the incentive pushed further, prompting her to answer Fiyero with a scorching kiss. Heat coursed through her veins once more. Caught in the passionate embrace, the two didn't separate until Elphaba was rolled on top of Fiyero. Breaking the kiss, Fiyero grinned.

"Now, that's a lovely way to be greeted in the morning. With a kiss from the love of my life." Elphaba jolted slightly at being described as such, but managed not to panic. She suddenly realized quite how much he meant to her. Not only was her the man who had taken her virginity, he was the man who loved her, without pity or sympathy.

"Ready for round two, my beauty?" chuckled Fiyero, gripping her waist.

"Yes," Elphaba found herself answering, staring into his intense eyes that were making her breathless. Their mouths connected with a force that could only be described as needful. Hands roamed free, no land left uncharted or unexplored. Since they had fallen asleep naked, no clothes had to be removed, so time was saved. An errant thought from the corner of Elphaba's mind not possessed with desire and lust noted that is was thankfully the weekend. Fiyero could stay as long as he liked without arousing suspicion. But her mind turned to what was arising beneath her once more, as Fiyero's skillful fingers stroked her innermost area, making it slick with dew. The smell of sex permeated the air, tangy and sweet, as Elphaba found herself pressing her private area towards his hand. With one hand at her breast and the other under her folds, Elphaba released a rolling growl. Fiyero took that as his cue, and promptly slid into her with his fingers.

Back arching and head tipping back, Elphaba exposed her neck to thousands of sweet kisses, layered upon her skin like opera cake. Wanting to make Fiyero feel as good as she did, her hands slid to his manhood, before wrapping her fingers around it's girth, and pumping.

A long groan escaped Fiyero's throat, and Elphaba, eyes shut in pleasure, smiled wickedly. Pumping faster, she heard Fiyero begin to gasp, as his hand tightened on her breast. Suddenly, she stopped, and ignoring the noise of distress Fiyero made, slid off his fingers and guided his length into her.

They made love with reckless abandon, Elphaba riding Fiyero, intent on pleasure and release for the two lovers.

Thoughts of propriety, along with society and contraception were forgotten once more.


	21. Just For This Moment

Waking up in another's arms was a rare and beautiful experience. It transcended care and reached deep love and devotion.

So Elphaba experienced for the second time on that blissful Saturday. She and Fiyero had sated their heated lust, which had given way to love. Just for that moment, they were alone together, belonging only to each other.

Stirring sleepily, Fiyero blinked his eyes open. The sight that greeted him flooded his insides with warmth. Elphaba lay, every muscle loose, in his arms, nestled into his broad chest. Eyes shut lazily, her usually sharp features held nothing but relaxation and contentment. Fiyero pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, adoring that he could finally do so.

"Good morning,  _fy nghariad annwyl._ " My dear love, Fiyero sang in his mind. She is my love, and I am hers. Elphaba stirred, making adorable noises in the pocket of her throat as she woke up. Rich brown eyes sparkled awake, and a glorious smile graced her lips.

"Good afternoon, Yero." She corrected gently, smiling at his shy grin. For all his machismo pride and sexy masculinity, his awkward politeness was sweet beyond honey or sugar. It melted her heart like ice in warmed water. Elphaba was distracted from her thoughts by a roving hand across the side of her body, travelling from waist to thigh and up again, lingering under her breasts. Trapping his wandering hand under hers, she laced their digits together.

"Haven't we explored each other enough, my heart?" She teased, tracing a single finger down the planes of Fiyero's shuddering chest.

"Not when you touch me like that, Fae." Fiyero replied huskily, dipping his head down for a scorching kiss. Elphaba responded in kind, but broke it off when she heard a demanding rumble.

"I do believe your stomach is attempting to tell us something, Fiyero," getting up from the tangled sheets, Elphaba arched her back in one luxurious stretch, before standing up, "Sustenance?" Naked as the day she was born, Elphaba glanced over an emerald shoulder to regard Fiyero. Although thrilled at the way his eyes followed her form, Elphaba blushed a touch at his intense scrutiny. Shrugging on a modest robe, she pointedly ignored the sound of disappointment from the bed, and padded into the kitchen.

Perusing the cupboards, Elphaba felt a little discouraged. She never had much need for food; a cup of coffee or an apple would sustain her throughout the working day. But gazing at her pitiful offerings (questionable yogurt, half a chopped apple and a crumble of vegetable pie) she worried for Fiyero's hunger levels. Straightening abruptly with the intention of making herself decent, she was met with Fiyero's naked body. A noise of surprise escaped her as she slammed into his front. Strong, blue diamonded arms caught her reflexively before she could do herself injury.

"Thank you," Elphaba breathed, staring up into his piercing eyes. The intense spell between the two was broken by another rumble, and Fiyero rubbed his stomach frantically in an attempt to quiet its demands. Elphaba chuckled, the corners of her thin lips quirking upwards.

"I'll have to go out for some food, Yero. I'm afraid I don't have much by way of nutrition." Fiyero frowned.

"Fae, no, I'll go," he argued, charging back to Elphaba's room to recover his clothing, "I can't let you waste your hard-earned money on me." Green hands stilled his, and Fiyero looked up from buttoning his shirt. Elphaba's face held graveness, a seriousness.

"Fiyero, I'm going. If you left my aparment, buttons done up in the wrong holes, people will see and they will know. Let me go, and raise no suspicion."

The gravity of their tricky situation creeped into the room. They could play at being lovers behind locked and bolted doors, but the reality of their precarious tryst would always return. They could only hold it at bay for a few precious moments. Fiyero sat down heavily onto the bed, conceding defeat.

"I love you, Yero," Elphaba kissed him softly, "I'll return soon, my heart." Fiyero kissed back with vigour, hands reaching up to trace her sturdy jawline.

"I love you, Fae." He whispered back. Elphaba left, cloak thrown across her skinny shoulders, heavy boots peeking from underneath the swaying fabric. Fiyero stared at the door, awaiting her anticipated return on bated breath.


	22. Secret Keeper

Whipping her head left and right sharply, Elphaba traversed the bustling road, avoiding litter and barging carriages, cursing careless drivers. Under her breath, of course. Her skin didn't do her any favours, no point adding to her already mostly soiled reputation.

 _He_ doesn't care about her reputation. Her heart swelled at that encouraging sentiment, warming with glowing love. True, she had never envisaged romance in her dreary existence, but then Fiyero came to her, sleeping in a rocking carriage. How she'd reviled him at their first meeting! So rude and inconsiderate! Poor apologising skills, and clearly a little dull. Then his blurting in her lessons, his sketch, his kisses... Their relationship was unconventional, to say the least.

Ducking away from under a dripping hanging basket, decorated with ivy and purple flowers, adorning the doorway of the Peach and Kidneys, Elphaba pondered which bakery to frequent. Mantel's fancy Gillikin  _boulangerie_  sold meat pies of questionable origin, so she would never darken his door. But Lilla's Bakery in Tenterden Quarter had reasonable prices and sourced all their foodstuffs ethically and mindfully. It was a favourite haunt of hers, as Lilla herself was an Animal sympathiser. Not to mention the pastries were delicious. Striding into the tearoom which preceded the shop, Elphaba ignores the stares and gasps. Fiyero loves you, Fiyero wants you, chanted her besotted brain. She was no longer alone in the world.

Galinda gossiped with Pfannee and Shenshen shamefully often. But what else was to be done with a Saturday afternoon? Surely not any more harrowing essays from Miss Thropp. Honest to Goodness, the woman did not let them slacken even a degree. She was like a demanding charioteer, whipping her steeds to their full potential.

Almost as if her mind had conjured the green woman up, in walked none other than Miss Thropp, cheeks flushed ivy from the cold. Her cloak swirled around her lanky form, and she stepped a little gingerly, almost as if she were bow-legged...

Oh, Goodness, gasped Galinda silently, she hasn't found herself a lover, surely? On closer inspection, her skin was glowing with happiness, a secret smile was tucked under the cleft of her upper lip, visible only to an experienced eye. This was the portrait of a woman satisfied.

"I say, look who just walked in!" giggled Shenshen, keeping her voice conspirrationally quiet. Pfannee suddenly ducked her coiffed head upon seeing the familiar green.

"Oh, do be quiet, Miss Shenshen, I haven't quite completed that last essay for Life Sciences, so I'd appreciate the lowering of your voice." She hissed in panic and annoyance, fumbling with her purse as a poor excuse to keep her head down.

"I wonder why she's buying so many pastries." Mused Galinda, ignoring Pfannee's histrionics.

"Who knows, who cares?" Shrugged Shenshen, nibbling daintily at a cream-slathered scone.

"She's quite flushed," noted Galinda, absentmindedly, "from the cold or from compliments, I wonder?" The girls, smelling gossip, lifted their faces towards the Frottican eagerly.

"Whose compliments?!" They near-screeched in unison. Galinda hushed them, holding a hand up for pause. Worried, she glanced at the professor. Miss Thropp was thankfully still perusing baked goods, whilst fiddling with her coin purse. Satisfied the green woman had not overheard their outburst, Galinda settled back into her theory.

"Compliments from a suitor, I'd imagine."

"Miss Thropp, with a suitor? Chance would be a fine thing!" The two laughed cruelly.

"It's not irrevocably beyond the realms of possibility. You never know." Hushed, the girls considered this. True, it was possible for a woman to use her wiles to ensnare a man. But Miss Thropp didn't seem the type.

"Why don't you go and see how she is, Galinda? She likes you, she'll talk with you!" Suggested Pfannee, eyes flicking towards the teacher. Before Galinda could even open her mouth, Shenshen had pushed her in the direction of the green woman.

Stumbling a touch at the rough shove, Galinda stepped nervously towards her target. Putting on her society face, she smiled blithely.

"Good afternoon, Miss Thropp! Fancy seeing you here, of all places!" Bubbly and entertained, Galinda's voice shocked Elphaba into action. Collecting herself quickly, she answered curtly.

"Miss Galinda. How are you?" That would do, it was polite enough.

"I'm just satisfied, thank you for asking." Galinda's keen eyes watched a darker blush colour Miss Thropp's cheeks. It was confirmed; she had a lover. The question was; whom?

Elphaba felt her cheeks heat further at Galinda's reply. But her mind worried at the concept of Galinda somehow knowing about she and Fiyero. She knew of Fiyero's love, but not his actions. Elphaba smiled unwittingly.

Galinda suddenly knew exactly who their mystery man was. It had to be Fiyero, there was no other explanation. But that meant Fiyero and Miss Thropp had had... relations. Quite vigorous relations, judging by Miss Thropp's awkward walk, as if she was hurting between her legs.

"Well, I must get back to my friends," smiled Galinda, "Enjoy your day, Miss Thropp!" The green woman nodded towards Galinda, a silent 'You too' in the gesture.

Galinda sat down gracefully and took a tiny sip of tea. Pfannee and Shenshen were practically salivating for news.

"I was wrong," Galinda said carelessly, her heart pounding, "From the cold."


	23. The Unholy Trinity

"I'm not given to eating a great amount, Yero."

"I don't care, will you please finish this pastry? You're far too thin." Fiyero worried, canvassing her body, the sharp angles all the more obvious. Elphaba had pointed features naturally, but Fiyero was a touch concerned about her concave stomach and poking elbows. Elphaba simply smirked, and ran a slender finger down the centre of his muscled chest.

"I don't remember you complaining last night." She purred. Her words were sultry, and her new lover blushed furiously.

"True." Admitted Fiyero.

"So what's the point? Yours is the only opinion that matters to me, my heart." Fiyero couldn't help grinning hugely at the confession. He gathered her in his arms suddenly and her eyes widened with barely concealed shock at the abrupt change in dynamic.

"Really?" Fiyero rejoiced internally, whooping for joy.

"Truly." Elphaba nodded, arms locked around his neck. They made full, unapologetic eye contact, staring into the depths of the others' soul. Their lips met in a warm kiss.  
"I'd still feel better if you'd eat the pastry."

"Oh, for Lurline's sakes..." Elphaba held the pastry gingerly between thin pointer finger and thumb, using only her fingertips. Wiping off the excess grease from the expensive butter coating the treat, she reluctantly bit off a corner and chewed. Fiyero looked immensely proud. He had made Elphaba Thropp do something she didn't initially want to.

"Stop looking at me like some dog you've trained to submit." Reprimanded Elphaba sharply. Fiyero quickly wiped the look of pride from his face, leaving it blank. Now it was Elphaba's turn to look proud.

* * *

 

Galinda sat in a despairing puddle of woe and silk taffeta. Although her fashion sense, social intelligence and charming wit were impeccable, her academic achievements fell short, few and far inbetween. Tapping a pencil on the varnished wood of her (purely for scholarly impressions) teak desk, the Frottican heaved a delicate sigh, turning to glance longingly at the twinkling sunshine smilling through the windows.

Her eyes followed the dappled lemonade light as it filtered softly through the trees, warm and inviting. It beckoned her to abandon the dreary piles of Sorcery and Life Sciences homework and socialise in the sun.

Grasping at a previously marked essay, Galinda read over the criticism at the end of the page.

_Please try and continue your points as strongly as you begin them. Keep them constant throughout your work, otherwise the entire framework of your essay will crumble._

It was signed M. Thropp. Only she would sign her initials as 'Miss' rather than 'Elphaba'. But Miss Thropp didn't know that Galinda was aware of her given name. If she were to address her teacher as such, all Hell would break loose. But when Fiyero callled her by her first name... well, Galinda wasn't sure she wanted to know the reaction, judging by Miss Thropp's awkward walk on Saturday afternoon.

The thought of her teacher and her classmate engaging in a union so frowned upon was mildly worrying, not to mention embarrassing. As romantic as it was - star cross'd lovers escaping the binds of propriety and all that - they could easily lose their reputations and livelihood for Miss Thropp and place at Shiz for Fiyero. Although his standing as a Prince would probably stand him in good stead should their tryst become common knowledge, whilst Miss Thropp would have nothing and no one to support her. The green woman would invariably be blamed for the relationship, and Fiyero would most likely emerge whiter than white as the resident royal.

Galinda felt the injustice of this keenly. She had always been soft-hearted, but here, in this situation that called for maturity and a willingness to listen to every side of the story, she vowed to support Elphaba in whatever endeavor she threw herself into. Not that Fiyero would throw Elphaba away like a broken toy the minute they were discovered, but the possibility was always present. The monarchical pressures were heavy, the crown a dead weight on anyone's head. The green woman would need help - sooner or later - and Galinda resolved to provide that support.

Although she wouldn't personally do anything of that ilk - entering a forbidden relationship - she wouldn't condemn. Galinda would not be cold and misunderstanding, she would be goodly and patient. There were twists to every tale, sides to every story, and she was only aware of half of this fable. She must keep an open mind and a clear eye, and help the lovers to avoid catastrophy.

For if she didn't, who would?

* * *

 

This must be a dream, thought Fiyero deliriously. Here he sat, in his professor's minute kitchen, discussing anything and everything with said professor, who had - through a few twists and turns of fate or destiny, who knew? - become his illicit lover. It was difficult to address his devotion and love for her when the less rational portion of his mind was screaming 'I just had sex with my teacher.  _Twice._ ' But he fought down his inner adolescent, and focused on Elphaba, who was in the flow of a passionate spiel concerning the welfare of the Animals of Oz.

"Surely if Dr. Dillamond could have proved there was no difference between Animal and humans, but a significant one between animals and Animals, the Banns would have to be lifted. There would be no basis for them to lose their jobs or citizenship." Rambled Elphaba, hands working furiously to prove her point. Her eyes shone with vigour, and her emerald skin glowed with the after-effects of lovemaking, and passion at her chosen subject.

"So this Dillamond was an ex-professor of yours?" Fiyero clarified. Elphaba nodded.

"Is he the Goat in the portrait in your classroom?" Elphaba nodded once more, hands curling around each other.

"It's the only picture I have of him. He was the single greatest person I have ever met. Such a wise professor." Fiyero saw how much Elphaba idolised this erstwhile teacher, and the thought was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"Sounds like you."

An awed silence fell, as Elphaba turned wide, startled eyes on her young lover. Fiyero wondered if he's said the wrong thing for a brief moment, but her mouth covered his before he could remedy anything.

"You truly mean that, Yero?" Breathless, Elphaba gasped at her sudden rush of intense emotion.

"Yes, of course. You are wise and passionate, great and you'll find that key to unlocking an amazingly rosy future." He was blocked from saying any more by Elphaba's fiery kisses.


	24. Suspicions

"Welcome back, class," said Elphaba automatically, swinging her book bag gently under her desk, "Sit yourselves down and we'll begin."

Monday had arrived, and Fiyero had left, leaving behind a crumpled bed, pastry crumbs and a miniscule tear in Elphaba's heart. She hadn't quite understood the scope of her need for him, until he had bid her a passionate goodbye and returned to his cold dormitory to continue the pretense of tiring revision. Left alone once more, her once satisfying solitude was suffocation.

No one had seen hide nor hair of the Arjiki Prince since Friday's lesson, as no one had been conscious to do so.

Festivities had been planned, and excursion to the Peach and Kidneys, a brave trip to the Philosophy Club and plenty of drink. Wine and ale were poured generously into large goblets, and glasses had remained full all evening. Those who had overdone it a smidgeon with the alcohol were paying dearly for it with monstrous hangovers, including, unsurprisingly, Avaric.

The son of the Margreave of Tenmeadows had his head bowed, resting on his forearms sloppily. His temples felt like they were being drilled for precious jewels, smacked by a jealous hand and slammed into a hard doorframe all at once, and it was  _hell_. Not to mention the nausea that threatened to make the drink reappear in a vile fashion.

Elphaba had no sympathy, and sharply rapped a pliant wooden ruler on the desk, snapping Avaric to attention roughly. The overindulged heir groaned in discomfort, clutching at his hair. Smirking, Elphaba reprimanded the foolish boy.

Fiyero sat in the middle, admiring his lover from a safe distance. Galinda, coming in with the remains of her breakfast, sat beside him, but none of his attention was pinned on the Frottican. His eyes only followed the green woman, regarding her body with desire as she bent over to fetch her lesson plans.

Although Fiyero wasn't paying attention to Galinda, the blonde was paying rapt, careful attention to him. Watching him lick his lips slowly and part his lips in awe whilst his eyes followed their professor was - frankly - pornographic in nature. Snorting quietly under her breath, she surmised that Fiyero couldn't have been more obvious unless he was drooling. Jabbing a poking elbow into his ribs was satisfying, as was the answer to his:

"What was that for?!"

"Kindly close your mouth, or you'll catch flies." She said curtly, before turning to face the front. Fiyero blushed, and with some effort, copied Galinda's demeanour of regarding their teacher with interest, rather than lust.

"Class, bring out your homework!" Called Elphaba. The was an answering hustle of bag being ransacked to find the papers, then the rustle of parchment. Sighing as she saw a terrified, yet beautifully manicured hand enter the air, she continued wearily:

"If you do not have it today, detention this evening until half past four and I shall accept it tomorrow."

There was a quiet murmer of discontent, but it was soon stifled by a sharp glare from the fearsome Miss Thropp. Standing up to collect the papers, she quietly noted the perpetrators of insufficent homework, including Pfannee, Shenshen and Avaric. Milla had, for the first time this term, completed the essay, although Elphaba could see a mineral tea stain at the curled corners of the vellum. Can't have everything, Elphaba sighed inwardly.

Galinda, (who had completed the essay and was mildly impressed with herself for it) took a dainty bite of elderberry pastry. She had slept late and forgone a good breakfast in favour of primping. Dashing down to the Cafeteria for a breakfast-on-the-go, she had grabbed the last pastry. As Miss Thropp came closer to the little blonde, gathering papers as she went, Galinda continued eating, unaware.

Elphaba finally reached Galinda, and suddenly her nostrils flared. The stench of the elderberry jam, the sickly-sweet perfume of the fruit hit her like a bullet, and her stomach reacted violently. Going as pale as her unique complexion would allow, Elphaba felt the saliva in her mouth collect in the cavity under her tongue, she clapped a green hand over her mouth and raced for the door. The essays previously in her hand fluttered to the floor in a rainfall of paper and ink.

* * *

 

"Miss Thropp? Are you quite alright" Called a nervous Galinda through the bathroom door. Standing in front of the sinks, staring at the mirror reflection was Miss Thropp, pale, sickly green instead of her usual rich emerald hue. She didn't respond, she didn't even blink. Galinda, mildly concerned, stepped closer.

"Miss Thropp?" she tried again. Still silence. Sighing softly, the socialite tentatively rested a tiny white hand on a black-clothed shoulder, and the green woman flinched. Finally, a reaction, thought Galinda. Leaving her hand where it was, she wound her arms around Miss Thropp.

"Miss Thropp, if you do not talk, I cannot aid you." The green woman simply looked at Galinda, turning her head slowly. Galinda had to stifle a gasp of surprise at the expression clouding her professor's eyes. Pain brimmed in the brown irises, swirling the stardust trails of silver into sadness. Her mouth opened, but closed straight after. She seemed to be struggling with a confession. Galinda leaned in closer, trying to convey her sincerity through her eyes.

Elphaba saw her student's eyes widen a degree, and her eyebrows turn upwards in sympathy. This was a girl who would listen. But she was Elphaba's  _pupil_. She couldn't be informed of her suspicions. She could easily blab, spilling the secret to all.

Drawing herself up to her full, imposing height, Elphaba finally responded.

"Thank you, Miss Galinda, but I have no need of assistance. I merely felt a touch nauseaous. I'm perfectly adequate now." Curt and neat, no emotion. As she made to leave, Galinda cried:

"Elphaba, tell me!" Every nerve in Elphaba's body stood to attention, every muscle stiffened in panic and surprise. Swiveling slowly to face the girl, who had pressed a hand to her mouth in regret and shock, she set her features in frost.

"What did you call me." Although phrased as a question, the statement felt like a cold demand, barely containing her ire.

"Miss Thropp, Fiyero slipped up, I told you after your sister... visited. He called you Elphaba, and I demanded the story from him. I am greatly sorry, I won't call you that again." Blurted Galinda, wide eyes panicking at the prospect of the impending black mark against her. Elphaba simply blinked. She had forgotten hers and Galinda's conversation after Nessa's disastrous visit. It had completely slipped her mind.

"I apologise, Miss Galinda," Elphaba stammered, embarrassed at her unecessarily frosty reaction, "It escaped me." Disarmed by the blonde innocence, the green woman slumped a little. Galinda, sensing an opening, stepped nervously closer.

"Miss Thropp, I don't doubt that you'd benefit from telling someone what is troubling you." Elphaba stared at Galinda, looking into her eyes with such a longing to confess, it scared the blonde. The green woman was clearly keeping a secret that was threatening to destroy with its magnitude. Galinda's eyes urged her professor to divulge this secret, and allieviate the tension in her body.

"Miss Galinda, you must understand, what I tell you _cannot_  leave this room." Elphaba ruled straight away. Her gaze brokered no avoidance of this warning. Galinda nodded eagerly.

"Of course, Miss Thropp. I won't tell a soul." Her sincerity radiated out of her eyes, calming Elphaba a little.

Deep breaths Elphaba, she steadied herself. Hands wringing anxiously, nails picking at each other, ripping at her cuticles betrayed her frayed nerves.

"The smell of your tart, the jam-" Elphaba began, only to be cut off by Galinda.

"Pastry."

"Pastry," Elphaba amended, "made me ill. The smell of the jam made me nauseous." Galinda merely looked blank, face impassive.

"The  _smell_ , Miss Galinda." Elphaba stressed. Galinda just blinked. The green woman sighed in frustration.

"Honest to goodness, Miss Galinda, we only studied reproduction a few weeks ago!" She cried. Galinda gasped in a sudden, blinding strike of realisation. Reproduction.

Oh, blessed Lurline.

Miss Thropp suspected she was with child.


	25. Yero and Fae

Galinda couldn't quite comprehend the concept of gangly, green Miss Elphaba Thropp, scourge of the ignorant, educator of Life Sciences and the most driven woman in Oz as a mother. She just stood, staring at her professor and blinking.  
And worse still, Master Fiyero, Arjiki Prince of the Vinkus, was most likely the father. Oh, Lurline, he was getting an heir faster than he had originally bargained. Collecting her scattered thoughts, Galinda struggles to fathom her words into coherent sentences.

"M-miss Thropp, are you q-quite sure... that you are in fact-" she stammered, her syntax stilted with shock.

"Pregnant? No. I am not certain. But I have a strong conviction of... my situation." Miss Thropp sounded almost calm, even in the face if such a life-altering discovery. Granted, it took a great amount to faze her, but still; nothing, over pregnancy? Her inability (or reluctance) to address her problem was far more significant to Galinda. If she didn't acknowledge the possible child inside of her, it wouldn't exist in her mind. For such a work-driven woman, she had a knack for procrastinating her own feelings, noted Galinda. But Miss Thropp needed advice, not personality tests.

"You must check, so that you know for sure, Miss Thropp. Then you can inform Master Fiye-"

"No! Fiyero cannot know about this!" Miss Thropp cut her off sharply, her voice firm, hands moving in a downward slash of forbiddance. Galinda was incredulous.

"Fiyero cannot know about  _his_  child?"

"No, he can't. He would hate me for this, it was my fault in the first place, I knew I could be... but I still-"

"Yes, alright, that's all I need to know." It was Galinda's turn to cut off Elphaba, with a hand out to halt her. The socialite knew she wouldn't want to be aware of Master Fiyero and Miss Thropp's exact... interactions.

An awkward pause descended between the two women. Neither was willing to broach the subject again. Finally, Elphaba sighed, and relented.

"I can just go into the City, visit a specialist and be done with it. I won't be gone long and the problem will be solved." She was cool and collected once more, face set in a mask of blankness. Galinda suddenly registered what 'going to the City' meant.

"No, no, have you lost your mind?! You can't terminate your child without the father's knowledge! At least tell the poor boy first!"

"It's my body, I control it!" Defended Elphaba.

"I'm aware! But Elphaba, he needs to know!" The air went out of Elphaba's sails and she deflated.

"Miss Galinda, he doesn't. You are the only one who can know. Madame Morrible would cast me out quicker than a flash, my family would disown me and Fiyero would leave me for sure." The bleakness of Elphaba's situation was heartbreaking to a gentle soul like Galinda. But her core of steel forged stronger on this matter.

"Miss Thropp, listen to me." Elphaba raised an eyebrow at the Frottican's tone, but before the green woman could open her mouth, the blonde rushed on.

"Fiyero loves you. I see it in the way he looks at you, I see it in the way he stares and watches your every move. And I saw it when we took you home after your sister came, he carried you through Shiz for all to see, tucked you into bed and kissed your forehead so tenderly, I damn near cried. Because he  _loves_  you, Elphaba, and he will love you still once he knows about his child."

Elphaba's eyes sparkled with unshod tears, and she quickly brushed away the errant drops before any harm was done to her skin.

"Cannot believe I'm doing this," Elphaba muttered darkly, "but you win, Miss Galinda. I'll tell Fiyero. But you must stay quiet." Rich, brown eyes pierced periwinkle blue, and Galinda nodded sagely and slowly, a genuine hand over her heart.

"On my life."

* * *

 

Returning to the classroom was awkward, in a word. But Elphaba had an excellent excuse ready. She would lie with the truth.

"I was under the misapprehensian that I was going to vomit." No one was willing to ask any further. The subject was just too much for a collection of hungover young adults to have at nine o' clock on a Monday morning, so a painful silence reigned for the remainder of the class.

Except for Fiyero. He was drunk on another substance and it was just as dangerous, but stunningly addictive. He had no power against the pull of Elphaba Thropp.

Although he was aware of Galinda's glaring presence right next to him, he wished to know what was wrong from Elphaba's lips. He tried every trick in the book to gain her attention, and almost broke their cover when he reached out to grab her arm. Luckily, Elphaba swiftly blocked his hand from view and plucked the quill from his hand, marking a little note in the margin of his paper and a few advisory pointers. Whilst making these notes, she whipped the pencil from behind her ear and scribbled a request at the end of his paper, all the while still talking about cells and tissue. Fiyero realised what her aim was and responded accordingly, asking questions about continuing his points in his future essays.

_Come to mine tonight. Be careful and discreet._

That note haunted Fiyero in the corner of his mind, dancing just on the periphery of his vision. Unable to ignore it for the day of lessons, Fiyero brought it out countless times and almost lost it to his Politics teacher when he was caught reading it again instead of making notes.

Finally the learning day came to a close, and Fiyero scuttled to his dorm to discard his satchel and school tie. He changed into a silk shirt and red waistcoat, throwing on the disguise of an illustrious young man, rather than a stressed University student. Hurrying down the spiral staircase, he counted the steps to distract himself from the impending meeting. She wouldn't dump him, would she? Decide, out of the blue, that she didn't want him any longer? But his thoughts turned to the way she clutched at him, held him, kissed him. She needed him as much as he needed her. They were each other's fix, their little happy in a grey world.

Sneaking out was laughingly easy, and before long, Fiyero was on his way to the discreet little apartment Elphaba kept for herself. Ignoring the beggars and whores promising 'a good time for young sir', he leapt up the stairs three at a time. Reaching the battered door, with hinges almost falling from the frame, he reached to knock, but lost his nerve.

Almost hitting him in the face, Elphaba swung the door open suspiciously, hearing heavy footfalls on the steps to her little eyrie. Glancing at him quickly, she pulled him unceremoniously into the flat.

Slamming the door hard behind her, Elphaba breathed a sigh of relief. But Fiyero stepped closer, winding his arms around her waist. She jerked quickly away, not wanting contact with her abdomen. She had rushed to the Apothecary after her last lesson had been released, and performed the test quickly. She had also consulted her diary. She was late. Now she was going to tell Fiyero, at great personal discomfort.

"Yero, I need to tell you something, and please listen to me carefully," she pulled away from his embrace, hands on his chest, "You need to listen."

"When do I not, Fae?" he purred in response, and reached for her middle again. She fought him off gently, and pushed him into a sitting position on her bed. She had no idea how to begin. How do you tell your illicit lover - who is also your student - that you're with child,  _his_  child? Pacing back and forth, she wrung her hands. Finally, she turned to face Fiyero. She had to let him know slowly, build up to it gently.

"Fiyero, what comes once a month?" His face wrinkled adorably, brow furrowing.

"The binmen?" Fiyero wasn't sure where Elphaba was going with this.

"No, Yero, for a woman. What comes once a month for a woman?" she sighed. His confusion was almost laughable. Almost.

"Oh. You... you..." His face filled with colour.

"Menstruate?" she answered bluntly for him.

"Yes." Fiyero was still blushing furiously at the topic of conversation.

"Well, I'm late, Yero." His face didn't change one iota. The gravity of her confession didn't register with him at all.

"Yero, I'm  _late_." She tried again, trying to convey their situation through her eyes. Fiyero still remained blank. Elphaba tried another tactic.

"I threw up this morning, because of the smell of the jam in Miss Galinda's pastry. Just the  _smell_  of it made me vomit." Another clue in the framework, but Fiyero still stayed impassive, mouth opening and closing with answers he wouldn't articulate. He was lost in confusion. What was she saying?

"Oh, for Lurline's sakes!" Elphaba finally lost her steady cool, "I think I'm with child, you fool!" The ugly confession hanging heavily in the air between them, she spun around and threw herself on the desk chair. Her hands hiding her face, her shoulders shook with emotion and heaving sobs. Fiyero reached for her instinctively, but the weight of her blurting still held him down. With child. Elphaba was with child,  _his_ child. But what if she had other lovers apart from him? The thought twisted a dagger of jealousy into his heart, the image of her writhing in ecstasy under another man.

"Elphaba," he asked slowly, not sure how to phrase his painful question without offending her, "are you quite sure it's mi-"

Elphaba spun around, face like an angry banshee's. She screeched:

"I was a virgin when I met you, Fiyero, and since then, the only man I've been with, is you. Unless this is divine intervention, you and I caused this. So yes,  _it_  is most definately yours." She turned her back on him again, "You can leave if you wish. I won't blame you for it." she mumbled.

Fiyero was floored. Above all of her confessions, this was the most shocking of them all. She believed he'd take the coward's route out, forget his lover and his child, leave her alone in her responsibility. Striding towards her, Fiyero was suddenly angry at her assessment of his character. Without warning, he lifted her from the chair, and carried her to the bed, ignoring her screech of annoyance and kicks and blows. Laying her down gently on her back, he crawled on top, so that his face was level with hers.

"Let me up." she hissed, and even in anger, she was beauty embodied. Oh, how he loved her. Dipping his mouth to hers, he kissed her passionately, with dizzying skill. Before long, she responded, kissing back with heat. But she soon gained sanity again, and pushed him off. Anger returned faster than the blink of an eye.

"What are you doing," she demanded, "why haven't you left?" Fiyero gripped her around her waist, careful of her abdomen. He laid his palm down across her midsection.

"You think I'd leave you, pregnant with my child, alone to deal with the responsibility of parenthood?" he asked, voice low and husky with anger and passion. Slightly scared by the expression of intensity on his features, Elphaba just nodded silently. Fiyero kissed her again. When he broke away, they were both gasping for air.

"Well, you're wrong. I love you, Fae. I want you, and I will want you until I die.  _Ti yw fy myd, f'unig cariad, a thi sydd yn berchen ar fy nghalon._ "  _You are my world, my only love and you are the one who holds my_  heart. The Vinkun slipped out, his mother tongue saying what his second language couldn't. Elphaba stared into his eyes, strengthened by his confession, in her language and in his, his hand on her stomach and his expression. She tackled him, so that she was on top, and kissed him roughly.

"I." Kiss. "Love." Kiss. "You." she gasped, between fierce kisses.

"I love you too, Fae." he smiled into the kisses, stroking her sides, eager to hold her in his arms.

"Yero, my hero." she sighed into his chest, and his heart melted.


	26. Dearly Beloved

Elphaba and Fiyero lay entwined on the bed, Elphaba sat with her spine to Fiyero's front, marking papers. His fingers drawing pattern on her belly, Fiyero entertained himself by just watching her. Every time a student made a good point she'd nod her head a fraction, making an approving sound. If it was a weak argument she would mutter "must try harder..." under her breath. Her quill flew across the parchment, leaving constructive criticism and pointers in her spidery handwriting, correcting errors, both spelling, grammar and biological.

Fiyero most enjoyed watching her face. Elphaba's features were so expressive when she wanted them to be. A pupil got a fact wrong, she'd frown, brow furrowing. A pupil displayed lacking knowledge, she bit her lip, worrying at the soft skin there. The Vinkun Prince especially loved that reaction, it made him want to kiss those nibbled lips.

Sighing as she finished one essay and pulled another towards her, Elphaba felt a loving kiss to her temple, manouvered awkwardly because of her glasses. She spared a soft glance towards Fiyero, amazed at his patience.

"I'm sorry, my heart, these need to be marked by tomorrow." Fiyero merely smiled in understanding.

"I know, Fae. We're a frustrating bunch." He chuckled. Elphaba scowled a touch, not enjoying the reminder of his status as her pupil rather than her lover. At his kind expression though, she softened.

"Not you, Yero. You were only frustrating for a week at most. After that you bucked up your ideas and knuckled down to work." Thinking back, Elphaba recalled Fiyero turning in his first passable essay, dark circles under his eyes, lack of sleep drawn onto his face in charcoal. She smiled fondly at the memory of his yawn as he slid the paper towards her.

"Do you know why I started working?" Fiyero purred in her ear, hands hugging her tighter around her middle. Elphaba shivered at his touch and shook her head.

"I wanted your attention. I thought if I worked, I'd get it." Elphaba smiled at the honesty, flattered, but more than a little mystified as to  _why_.

"You wanted my attention? Well, you certainly got it! 'I'd like to have sex.'" She mimicked. Fiyero groaned in embarrasment, burrowing his face into Elphaba's neck.

"I was under your spell," he mumbled against her skin, still unwilling to show his face, "You were utterly entrancing."

"Codswallop," Elphaba blushed furiously, "I am not in any way, shape or form, entrancing." Fiyero lifted his head, hearing the refusal.

"Yes, you are. Your eyes have me dreaming without sleep. Your smile has me flying without wings. And your mouth has me shackled without chains." He disputed. Nearing her mouth at ever sentance, Fiyero finally kissed Elphaba, exhibiting his devotion to her. She kissed back, stroking his face with her fingertips.

"I love you," breathed Elphaba, dazed, "I love you." The fingertip trails on her stomach flattened to a palm pressed against her abdomen. Fiyero gently rubbed it, kissing down her body.

"I love you too, Fae," his lips caressed her throat, admiring the glow she had, because of his kisses and, of course, the pregnancy, " _Ti yw f'annwylaf, f'emerallt._ "  _You are my most beloved, my emerald_.

Elphaba loved hearing those emotive words uttered by Fiyero in his mothertongue. It melted her roughness, and made her feel, with it's rawness and power. Fiyero shifted, so that he was in front on Elphaba, and relished the full access he had to her body.

As his mouth reached her middle, Fiyero kissed the fabric of her black frock gently, knowing his child was behind it, safely enclosed in the love of his life. His hands cupped her hips for support.

As a thought struck him, Fiyero looked up at Elphaba abruptly, and he opened his mouth.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

"Well, that was abrupt." Was all Elphaba could think to say. Fiyero bit his lip worriedly. Elphaba had a point.

"You're right, I should have built up to it." Just as he was about to launch himself into a speech, Elphaba pressed a skinny finger to his lips.

"Why do you want to get married, Fiyero?" she asked simply, "It's as official as can be. I'm even pregnant with your child, for Goodness sake!"

"I know, Fae, but-"

"Is it because you don't want the baby to be bastard?"

"No, Fae. Stop putting words in my mouth. I want to get married because I want to start my life with you, start my family with you. I want you to have my children. I want to wake up next to you every morning and know you're mine." Elphaba melted.

"I'll always be yours, Yero, just as you'll always be mine." They kissed once more, gasping for breath once they separated.

"So," Fiyero swallowed, "what do you say? Holy matrimony?" He held out a hand to her, hoping against hope that she'd agree. She went one step further. Elphaba leant down to kiss his hand, pressed it to her belly and whispered;

" _Yes_."


	27. Blood

"Class! Focus, or I will fail each and every single one of you!" Bellowed Elphaba, who was dangling precariously at the end of her fraying tether. The pregnancy symptoms had suddenly smacked her with such force she didn't know if she was coming or going. All she knew was that her class was gratingly annoying and every student was a stinging pain in the-

"Miss Thropp?" Piped Galinda sweetly, her hand straight in the air. Elphaba took a deep, cleansing breath. Only a few clock-turns to go. She forced a smile.

"Yes, Miss Galinda?" The petite blonde tapped her papers lightly with the feathery tip of her quill.

"Would you look over my notes, please? I want to make sure they're all correct." Elphaba got up slowly from behind her large desk, trailing slim fingers against the smooth, cool Quoxwood surface.

"Of course." She sighed. Steadily climbing the stairs towards the isolated desk Galinda had selected for herself, Elphaba cursed these hormones to the deepest dankest corner of Hell for throwing her so off-balance. One minute she wanted to set fire to all she saw, another she wanted comfort and coddling, and other times she wanted certain parts of Fiyero... Reaching the table, she wondered why the little socialite was so determined to stay away from her classmates. Maybe to avoid distraction in the form of social gatherings? Or maybe to ignore the infernal noise and hooligan clatter they made.

"Now, Miss Galinda, these notes-" Elphaba began, before seeing neat bubble writing in graphite at the foot of her pupil's page.

_Order me to stay after class._

Her insolent little student now felt she could order her, an established professor at the greatest University in Oz, around as she pleased? The  _nerve_  of her-

Calm. Deep breath. You will not give in to these ridiculous, not to mention inconvenient mood swings, Elphaba. Another deep breath should do the trick. Following her own advice, the green woman breathed in, and quickly scrawled a reply.

"These seem to be in order, Miss Galinda. Just make sure you favour content over form when writing." Galinda grinned with infantile sweetness and chirped:

"Of course, Miss Thropp!"

Elphaba descended the stairs briskly, reflecting that her morning sickness was not as fierce and untimely as she remembered her mother's. She pitied the poor woman for having three children, all of whom caused her ill for many months into her pregnancies. The she remembered all her father had done to help her mother, holding her hair as she retched, brewing her soothing teas, rubbing her spine. Elphaba imagined the father of her own child performing the same actions, and smiled blissfully. As she passed Fiyero, who sat at the very end of the row of seats, she gently stroked his hand in passing. Daring to glance quickly at him, Elphaba noticed a faint, but real, smile as he wrote.

Continuing down the stairs, Elphaba abrputly felt her middle twist in pain, agonising stabs forcing her bent double. Unable to stop herself from crying out desperately, she clutched her abdomen, nails digging into the skin. She lost her balance, and tumbled to the foot of the stairs, curled up tightly. Gasping out, "No, no, no, not now, no, no..." in a disjointed rhythm, Elphaba felt her cheeks sting sharply with acid tears. This was just how her life would develop: the minute she decided to keep hers and Fiyero's child, she had to suffer a misc-

No!

"Fa-"

"Miss Thropp!" screeched Galinda, deliberately drowning out Fiyero's call to his lover. She flew down the stairs and knelt, gently bringing her teacher's dark head onto her lap. Sweat was beading, bubbling at her temples, eyes screwed up in agony. Galinda attempted to clutch at Elphaba's hands, but they would not be removed from the green woman's stomach.

"Milla!" Galinda screamed, "Call the nurse now!" The other students had been far too gobsmacked to react to Miss Thropp's tumble, but Milla's parents were high-ranking Shiz physicians. She dashed out of the lecture theatre, bolting towards the Nurse's Station for aid.

Meanwhile, Galinda cradled Elphaba on her thighs, supporting her head and stroking her brow. Fiyero had clasped his hands over hers, and rubbed them absentmindedly as he glanced worriedly at her face, hearing her gasps quieten. Galinda murmured comfort to her, trying to keep her awake. The pained cries had abated, but Galinda could now see startling scarlet blood trickling in a constant flow between from Elphaba's legs, staining her black frock.

"Oh, no..." Galinda breathed, growing more distressed as the life of Elphaba and Fiyero's child poured out of the prone green woman, who was now growing dangerously pale and limp. Fiyero cried out in despair at the sight of the bubbling blood, thick and dark.

"No, no, Fae, Fae, no... My darling Fae, fight it, fight it with all your might." He sobbed, clutching at a floppy hand. He was alarmed to notice her temperature dropping rapidly.

"Galinda, she's going cold!" Galinda ripped her soft cardigan off, and enveloped Elphaba in it, buttoning it up tightly.

"Switch positions," she ordered, and Fiyero obeyed silently, holding his lover with heartbreaking care, before lowering her carefully into his lap, "Rub her arms. Keep her warm, Fiyero." The Frottican grasped Elphaba's slender hands, warming them between her own.

"Where is the patient?" Called the nurse, sprinting in with an entourage of physicians, two carrying a wood-and-canvas stretcher. Galinda shouted their position from the floor, and the nurses rolled a limp Elphaba gently onto the stretcher, before rising and running for the nearest hospital. Fiyero made to follow, but Galinda grabbed his arm.

"We won't be allowed in, Fiyero. We're not family." She said quietly.

"She is the mother of my child, and I am her fiancé, Galinda." Fiyero hissed in anger, wrenching his arm out of her grasp.

"Since when?" gasped Galinda indignantly, insulted at his rude response.

"Since last night. I proposed," Fiyero admitted in a rough voice, "so I have every right to be allowed in." With that, the Arjiki Prince stormed out, intent on catching up with the medics.

Galinda was left standing next to a puddle of congealing blood.


	28. Conflict Resolved

"Miss Elphaba Thropp. You have been  _wicked_ , haven't you?" An illustrious,  _sotto_  voice boomed menacingly in Elphaba's ear. Foggy, dazed and confused, with an all-too-generous dose of pain permeated her entire being, and that voice wasn't particulary helpful. Lurline, she wanted Fiyero to hold her, to kiss her burning agony away...

"Yero..." she moaned, fingers clutching, reaching for her lover.

"Your filthy, heathen Winkie isn't here, you insolent brat." hissed the voice again. Elphaba sobbed with the realisation, chest heaving with gasps. Fiyero wasn't here. Why wasn't he here? She needed him desperately. Whimpering, she opened her bloodshot eyes slowly, blinking a few times to clear the glue from between her eyelids. A clumsy, garishly painted face loomed above her own visage, and she shot up abruptly, wincing at the ruthless stabs of pain in her stomach.

"Madame Morrible." Elphaba stated brokenly, her voice monotone.

"Yes, dearie. I won't say I'm happy you're awake, but I am glad. Now, I must say, when I heard our very own Life Sciences professor was bleeding profusely from between her legs, and a young man, who just so happens to be one of her students, was proclaiming his engagement to her, not to mention the existence of a bastard child, I couldn't quite believe my ears." Elphaba felt a rising sense of dread, hearing this assessment from her employer.

"Madame, I-"

"I don't care for any explanations, dearie. I merely want you and your poisonous influence out of my school. As well as your heathen lover."

"Fiyero is not a heathen!" protested Elphaba firmly, sitting up awkwardly, "And I will not allow you to rot the brains of this impressionable generation!"

"You can, and you will, my little revolutionary."

"And who am I revolting against," Elphaba hissed dangerously, "Our Glorious Master and most Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz?"

"Exactly, dearie. I'm thrilled to see you understand your place." Morrible hissed back, bringing her face closer to Elphaba's in a threat. Elphaba narrowed her eyes in pure hatred.

"Yours isn't much better,  _Madame._ " she responded, thin lip curling in distaste.

" _Au_ _contraire_ , my dear," the Matron sat back, chair creaking under the shifting of undulating weight, "I happen to occupy a minor position within the Wizard's government. I've risen up in the world, Miss Elphaba." Her face set in a smug mask, Morrible rose to leave.

Elphaba lay on the sheets, crushed like a petal underfoot. The Matron paused in the doorway, apparently considering an epithet.

"You could have done so  _much_ , my dear."

Elphaba didn't reply. She didn't even lift her head.

* * *

"Sir, I have said it before, and I shall say it again; I cannot allow you to see her unless you are close family." expressed the Nurse, exasperated. Fiyero fought back angrily.

"I'm her fiancé," he protested, "I need to see her. I love her. Please." The Nurse's face softened a degree, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"This is more than my job's worth," she sighed, "but alright, I'll let you in." She ushered him to a thick, wooden door with a burnished number 16 hanging from a nail, and quietly swung it open. Pushing him in, she muttered quietly to herself about her own intelligence and common sense. Fiyero didn't care. He was in, and he rushed to the bedside, grabbing a still, verdant hand.

He stared into her sleeping face, eyes following the ivy-coloured tracks that her tears had burned into her cheeks.

"Fae," Fiyero whispered, stroking his lover's palm, "Wake up,  _fy nghariad annwyl_." He kissed the soft skin, lips brushing against the criss-crossing folds in her hand. Elphaba's eyes fluttered open tiredly, and as soon as she registered Fiyero's presence, a loving smile spread across her face.

"Yero," she breathed, cupping his cheek with the hand he was cradling, "my hero." Fiyero nearly cried at the way she said her pet name for him.

"How are you?" he kept his voice quiet, restful. Elphaba tipped her head from side to side, indicating that she was so-so.

"It hurts, but I'm sure I'll heal." There was a pause between the two, before she broke the silence again. Drawing strength from their connected limbs, she mustered up the courage to ask the question burning inside her chest.

"Yero, do you know if the child-" Fiyero's face grew sad, and he shook his head.

"They haven't told me anything, Fae. I wasn't allowed to see you for three days. I slept in the waiting room, because I refused to leave the premises. I may have also brought the might of the Vinkus down on the medical staff." he admitted sheepishly. Despite her overwhelming sadness, Elphaba managed a watery smile.

"I love you," she whispered, staring deeply into his eyes, aching for him to hold her.

Sliding gently onto the bed, Fiyero wrapped strong arms around her, enveloping her in the warmth of his loving embrace.

"I love you too, Fae." He responded, kissing her temple. Nestled into his chest, Elphaba felt safe for the first time in what felt like an era. Her own arms curled around her middle, not daring to hope about the baby. Fiyero's hands held hers against her stomach, warm and comforting. Hoping against hope.

* * *

 

"Ring it, Yero. I can't not know for a moment longer." urged Elphaba. Fiyero picked up a minute silver bell, and shook it briskly. A bright chime hung in the air long after he had rung it, and hearing footsteps, the couple straightened their spines, collecting strength from each other.

"Whatever the physician says, I will still love you." murmured Fiyero in Elphaba's ear, knowing his lover needed that reassurance. She twisted her head and pressed a heartfelt kiss to his lips.

"You rang, Miss... ah, Elphaba?" The kindly physician questioned, eyes twinkling from the clipboard to look at Elphaba. She nodded her response, and drew in a deep breath.

"I need to know," she managed. Fiyero squeezed her hand, urging her on, "did the baby survive?" The medical man nodded his understanding, and, sensing the delicacy of the woman before him, proceeded slowly and surely.

"Well, I'll perform a few tests for you, Miss Elphaba, and we shall know for sure." She dipped her head a few times, and Fiyero murmured quietly in her ear, comforting her. the physician's heart squeezed, witnessing the love between the couple. Glancing down at their entwined hands, he noted with surprise that their colours - dusky and emerald - complimented and contrasted each other beautifully, almost like a work of art.

"Please be warned, my dear," the medic said, "You lost a significant amount of blood these past days. Please don't get your hopes up, but don't rule anything out either." A kind hand on her shoulder, and he left, gone to fetch the necessary tools for testing.

"Fiyero, what if I lost it? What if I can't have children? What if-" Fiyero silenced her with a kiss, and when they broke away, he whispered:

"Stop with the 'what-ifs', and just hope for now. We can't do anything to change it, but we can hope."

"Hope will hurt me, if it's in vain, Yero." Elphaba whispered.

"Hope is all we have, Fae. And I promise that I will never leave you. I will always love you, no matter what may happen."

After running the tests, which consisted of a urine sample, questions about dates, a thorough analysis of Elphaba's abdomen and a pinard to her stomach, the couple, wracked with nerves and twitching with worry, still clung to each other in hope and love. Tension hung heavy and noxious in the air.

Looking carefully at the test results, the physician brought in a secondary opinion. Then a third. After a long discussion, all the agreed that the evidence was conclusive. The medical man gathered the papers and notes, pinned them under his clipboard and set off towards Miss Elphaba's room.

The couple, still embracing tightly, glanced up quickly at the sound of the physician's entrance, eager to know the test results. He smiled in a fatherly fashion at the two lovers, before spreading his arms wide.

"Well, I have never seen a case quite like this, but it seems, against all odds, that your child has survived that terrible ordeal. Congratulations, Miss Elphaba, you are carrying a healthy baby!" Throughout the sentence, the grins on Elphaba and Fiyero's faces widened until their cheeks hurt from smiling. Fiyero grasped both of her hands tightly in his and brought them up to his lips, kissing them with loving fervour. Then he brought their interlocked hands down to cup her belly. The physician smiled again, and quietly took his leave, giving the two new parents some privacy

"Alive," Elphaba repeated breathlessly, "our child is alive." Fiyero nodded, too happy for words to articulate. They met in a mutual kiss, content and thrilled beyond belief at their stroke of good luck.

"We're going to be parents, Fae!" Fiyero whispered in excitement, almost squeaking the words. Elphaba nodded, almost in tears.

"I love you, Yero." she stated. He smiled with ultimate joy.

"I love you too, Fae."


	29. Reconciliation

"Fae, darling," cautioned Fiyero, large hands resting on Elphaba's bony shoulders, "are you quite sure about this? I don't want this putting more undue stress on yourself." His brow creased in worry, the Arjiki Prince, rubbed his thumbs soothingly into his lover's prominent shoulder blades. Elphaba sighed in content, breath hissing out in one long breeze. Eyes closed, she protested.

"Yes, of course I'm sure. My class deserves to know why I'm disappearing so suddenly, and abandoning them halfway through the year." Voice firm. No second thoughts, no reconsidering. Pure Elphaba, Fiyero recalled affectionately. Still not convinced, Fiyero hummed a noncommital noise, before digging a little deeper with his massage, causing Elphaba's mouth to part in pleasure and her head to tip back, resting on Fiyero's broad chest.

"Just not quite right now," sighed Elphaba, leaning back for Fiyero to hold her upright. Fiyero chuckled, slowly replacing his hands with his mouth, before sliding fingers down fresh green arms. Supporting her body, he stroked and caressed along the surface of her arms. Planting generous kisses to her throat, Fiyero appreciated the pearlescence of his Fae's skin. Elphaba's colour had brightened considerably, and had returned to it's jewel-like shimmer. Although she was a little weaker since the bleeding, she insisted on performing every task herself, almost offended by the general consensus that she ought to rest a day more. She disregarded it, and went onwards with her plans to exit the hospital the following morning.

Elphaba shook herself free, righting herself with a ruler-straight spine. Fiyero, recognising the end of the argument, following her dutifully through the disinfected hallways. Reaching the door, Elphaba suddenly stopped, and turned to regard Fiyero with a half-smile playing on her lips.

"Aren't you going to escort me out, as a distunguished gentleman would?" Elphaba teased playfully, holding out a verdant hand. Fiyero smirked.

"I am no distinguished gentlemen, my love. I'm a savage barbarian, remember?" at Elphaba amused smile, he continued, "I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry out, if you'd like?" At that offer Elphaba released a real laugh.

"How undignified. I think I'll refuse." The pair linked arms neatly, Elphaba's hand looped around her lover, and Fiyero escorted her politely out of the hospital, holding the door for her, a sophisticated lady.

* * *

Drawing in a deep breath, Elphaba held it for a few seconds, before letting it all out in an instant. She was stood anxiously outside her once familiar classroom, but now it felt like entering a den of lions. Willingly. Stomach roiling, not helped by the vengerful re-emergance of morning sickness, hands shaking, a familiar notion of dread rising up her torso. Oh, Lurline, what had made her so delirious as to think that she could handle this?

Fiyero's reassuring hand pressed at the small of her back, following the curve of Elphaba's spine. She shut her eyes, focusing solely on that comforting sensation of simple, caring contact.

"You can do this, Fae." Fiyero whispered in her ear. Mildly irritated at his assumption that she was having doubts, Elphaba turned so that her body faced his.

"How utterly cliché. Of course I can do this." Snorting, her resolve - previously a bit shaky - hardened. She stormed determinely in, followed by a proud Fiyero, admiring her inner core of irrevocable, unchagable strength.

Thanking her rarely-lucky stars that she had a small class, Elphaba felt every pair of eyes follow her as she made her way to the rostrum for the final time. The silence was stifling, utterly uncomfortable. Taking in yet another deep breath (that seemed to be her favourite activity recently - deep respiration), the green woman faced her class. She was only vaguely aware of Fiyero's presence beside her.

"I must leave you," she began, meeting every student's eyes in turn, "and I am deeply and sincerely sorry for abandoning you halfway through the year, but not even I could forsee what happened to me this year."

"What  _did_  happen to you this year, Miss Thropp?" Avaric, curse his nosey streak. How to answer this without being immediately burned at the stake for wanting a lover like every other human being in this Oz?

"I fell in love." she said simply, baring what she supposed was her soul. Fiyero grabbed her hand and held it tightly. A few students shifted uncomfortable at this statement, giving each other awkard glances.

"If you can call it that," snorted Pfannee, "You are with child, out of wedlock, by your own student!" she continued, not believing the gall of the green woman to call her depraved acts of desperation  _love_.

"Love is love, Miss Pfannee, whatever the circumstance!" Snapped Elphaba, hands slamming palms down on the desk, emphasising her instant anger. Fiyero had dropped her hand quickly, worried for his own extremity. Every pupil leaned back a fraction, and the green woman forced herself to calm down. No need to make any more enemies, she surmised.

"Love  _is_  love, Pfannee. Remember that." Echoed Galinda sincerely, voice clear and diction true. She, along with Boq and a nervous Milla had been the only three of the entire campus that refused to engage in a witch hunt for Elphaba Thropp, and still stood fast by her side.

"I agree with Miss Galinda," Boq announced loudly, and Milla nodded her agreement bravely. Cheered and encouraged by the acts of support, Elphaba and Fiyero listened carefully to Bog's next words, "may you both be very happy together." Galinda rose gracefully, tiptoed slowly down the stairs with a ladylike air, before lifting her skirts and running full pelt at Elphaba.

The green woman's panicked face disappeared behind a mass of blonde curls, as the Frottican embraced her tightly. Tentatively, Elphaba's arms rose to hug Galinda back, and the two incredibly different women held each other in a gesture of enduring friendship. Pink and green blurred again.

"Good luck with Fiyero, and your baby, Elphie." whispered Galinda softly to Elphaba. Nose wrinkling at the alltogether far too perky nickname, Elphaba decided to just go with it. Considering her untimely and unrelieableluck, an awful nickname was nothing in the scope of the whole universe. As they separated, the verdant woman smiled at the girl who had guarded hers and Fiyero's tryst without knowing the full details, had kept silent in the face of her discovery of the pregnancy, and had stayed stoically in support of Elphaba through the public disclosing of... everything.

"Remember to continue your points as strongly as you start them, Miss Galinda," advised Elphaba, to which Galinda cracked a smile.

"I will." she promised, and held onto Elphaba's slender hand, squeezing tightly one last time. Still holding the green woman's hand in hers, Galinda led Elphaba to Fiyero, and laid her professor's hand over her classmate's. The two lovers smiled at each other, and Galinda blessed them one last time.

"Godspeed, Elphie and Fiyero. Godspeed."


	30. Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few explanations for this chapter. Firstly, the Welsh. I'm not sure how you're all reading it, but I'll just give you some basic pronunciation lessons; the double 'd' makes the same sound as the 'th' in the word 'the'. The 'ch' is the same sound you make when clearing your throat of phlegm. Attractive, I know. Think German when you see the 'ch', it's a little harder as a sound in Welsh, the German 'ch' is lighter. The double 'l' makes a sound that sounds like the hiss of a cat. It's probably the most difficult letter in our alphabet to pronounce. The 'Gog' thing is something we actually do, it's exactly how Fiyero describes it. When Fiyero says 'my father', I'm aware that sounds a bit awkward in English, but in Welsh, it's less like ownership and more about respect. It's just a bit more formal. Olwen's name in also Welsh, it's based on an ancient folk tale about a beautiful woman who left a trail of pure-white flowers behind her wherever she went. Olwen literally means 'behind her is white'. When Elphaba says Vinkun sounds like consonants, she's wrong (not often you see that). Welsh actually has seven vowels, as opposed to English's five; a, e, i, o, u, w, y, and we sometimes include 'h' too. The title of this chapter is Welsh, it means 'Old Land of my Fathers', and it's the first line of our national anthem. Look it up on YouTube and see if you can find a translation. It's a beautiful song, and the meaning behind it is something very special to us as a country.

Fiyero's desire to travel to the Vinkus by luxurious carriage was reluctantly accepted, since Elphaba surmised to rest a little more than usual, for the sake of the baby.

Although the pair began their journey straight-backed against the velveteen seats, they soon attracted each other and ended up in a puzzle of sleepy limbs. Legs crossed, arms held each other reassuringly close and two pairs of hands rested on Elphaba's abdomen. In the five days they had been travelling, Elphaba's morning sickness had worsened, not helped by the sickening rocking and lurching motion of the carriage. Sleep was the only escape from near-constant retching.

So the pair slept peacefully, deciding unanimously to put the ominous meeting of Fiyero's parents out of their minds, just for now. The concept was simply too stressful for Elphaba, who usually wouldn't give a twig about what anyone may think of her. But this was different. These people were her lover's parents, who also happened to be royal. Maybe it was the pregnancy symptoms knocking her out of shape, but the green woman felt her stomach churn with nerves, and her fingers to pick worriedly at her nails.

On the sixth day of consecutive travel, passing the fertility of Munchkinland and the obscenely bright Yellow Brick Road, the vehicle trundled to a stop in front of a grey-black castle, forbidding and tall, looming above everything. Iron-barred windows, as narrow as Fiyero's forearm speckled across the surface of the structure. As Fiyero gently nudged Elphaba awake, he stroked her hair back from her forehead.

"Oh, Lurline," she groaned, "are we finally here?" Bleary eyes blinked repeatedly, in an attempt to clear her vision. As Fiyero helped her out of the carriage with one hand guarding the small of her back, her tired eyes grew wide with wonder at the sight that greeted her arrival in the Vinkus.

The sun was sinking clowly into the horizon, burning fiery colours into the sky. Melted butter yellow, delicate rose quartz pink tucked under whipped egg-white clouds and blood red mixed and swirled, while peppercorn streaks rolled like ink across the hues. The castle only sharpened every detail, it's turrets grey and stony against the soft sky.

"Oh, Yero. Look at the sky. It's so utterly beautiful." Not one to deny beauty, Fiyero smiled at her wonder.

"You should see the sunrise. It makes the sunset look gaudy." He clutched at her hand, and she eagerly entwined her fingers with his.

"No sight in this Oz could make that look gaudy." Maintained Elphaba, drinking in the colours. Everything was so  _rich_  here; every colour seemed brighter, the air seemed fresher, the sun a richer one than she knew.

"I love it here," she breathed, "It's stunning." Fiyero grinned, unable to stop himself from adoring her reaction to his beloved homeland.

The lovers made their slow way up to the closed gate, dark with shadows. A fraying, matted rope swung gently in the breeze, and Fiyero caught it, yanking it down to ring an echoeing bell. The gong heralded their arrival almost triumphantly, and Elphaba felt the creeping return of the nausea. She began to have second thoughts. The carriage was still there, they could run to it, jump in and continue onwards, to Fliann or Ev or some other kingdom independent of Oz.

But her thoughts of escape were squashed when the gate creaked and groaned its way open, wheezing in protest. A motherly handmaiden stood behind the giant wooden structure, dwarved by it. Her look of recognition directed at Fiyero turned into one of surprise when her eyes found Elphaba. Subconsciously, his hand wound around her waist tightly, one hand flared over her hip. Elphaba ignored the expression, nothing new she supposed.

" _Dewch i mewn, f'Arlgwydd Fiyero, dewch i mewn. Siwr i chi rhewi os arhosoch chi mas 'ma am eiliad yn hirach._ " She bustled the pair in, Vinkun flowing from her mouth in a lilting pattern of what sounded like just consonants. Fiyero translated for Elphaba, quietly in her ear:  _Come in, my lord Fiyero, come in. You'll freeze if you stay out there a moment longer_. Elphaba shivered. Even when he wasn't speaking Vinkun, his voice in her ear never failed to give her chills.

The maid lead them up winding staircase after winding staircase, which was not helping Elphaba's sickness. Deep breaths, she cautioned herself, just take in deep breaths and calm down. Sensing safety, since the maid's back was turned, Fiyero rubbed gently at Elphaba's stomach, which was comforting and lessened the symptom a degree. She smiled at him gratefully by way of thanks, but quickly brushed him off when they reached large double doors.

" _Ma' dy rhieni yn y parlwr, f'Arglwydd. Gadawaf_ _chi'ch dwy yma_."  _Your parents are in the parlour, my lord. I'll leave you here._  Fiyero nodded, before responding in the same language. Elphaba watched as her lover opened his chest and allowed the guttural, raw sounds that clipped and restricted his Ozian roll free in his  _mamiaith_  ( _mothertongue_ ). She noticed that Fiyero's vowels were rounder, cleaner, while the handmaiden's were shorter and nasal. The accent was different.

Bidding a polite farewell to the pair, the maid retreated down the stairs.

"That was Olwen," explained Fiyero, "she's worked here for most of her life." Elphaba nodded in understanding, having observed the warmth behind the obeisant politeness all servants bore their masters.

"Her accent is different to yours," Elphaba stated, and Fiyero responded with an amused smile.

"Yes, Olwen's a Gog." he chuckled.

"A what?"

"A Gog. The Vinkun word for North is  _gogledd_ , so we from the South call those in the North Gogs." Elphaba laughed at the logic. Fiyero smiled at her fondly, their worries very briefly forgotten. But as they glanced simultaniously at the double doors, laughter faded fast.

Finally, the two turned to face the door, hands interwoven together. Fiyero swallowed his nerves, and knocked authoritatively.

" _Pwy sydd yno_?" Boomed a rich voice from behind the varnished wood.  _Who is it?_

" _Myfi, 'nhad._ " responded Fiyero.  _Me, my father_.

" _Fiyero, fy mab! Dewch i mewn, 'ngwas i!"_  The voice became familiar and warm, hearing his son behind the doors.  _Fiyero, my son! Come in, my boy!_

With one final look at each other, Elphaba and Fiyero stepped into the parlour.


	31. Meet the Parents

Marillot and Baxiana Tigelaar were terrifying. Elphaba felt a sudden rush of embarrassment, confronting the parents of her lover and father of her child. They had a grandchild and didn't even know. Oh, Lurline, this was mortifying. Elphaba felt her cheeks flush hot, sure they were a deep, dark green by now.

The royal couple were sat aristocratically at a carved teak table, taking afternoon tea. Lady Baxiana had her little finger cocked out as she held the teacup, looking incredibly upperclass. King Marillot was sat, kind and jovial, leaning back in the chair with powerful arms spread wide to accomodate his son.

" _Dere 'ma, ngwas i!_ " Fiyero grinned and embraced his father, clapping him on the back in a manly fashion.  _Come here, my boy!_

" _Fiyero bach, pwy yw dy ffrind?_ " Asked Baxiana pleasantly.  _Fiyero dear, who is your friend?_  If she was shocked at Elphaba's hue, she didn't show it.

" _Mam, 'nhad, dyma Elphaba. Fy nghariad, a fy ddyweddi._ " Fiyero grabbed Elphaba's hand to bring her closer to his side, and slipped an arm around her waist.  _Mum, Dad, this is Elphaba. She's my love, and my fiancée._

The King and Queen didn't speak for some time.

Unable to stand the tense silence any longer, Elphaba stepped forward bravely and held out a hand, waiting to be shaken.

"My name is Elphaba Thropp. I hail from Munchkinland, but I grew up in Quadling Country," she paused for breath, "and I love your son."

King Marillot grasped her hand in his rough ones, and shook it energetically, but warmly, with a softening smile.

"We have that in common, my flower." His accent was curious in Ozian, rolling and flowing, with the same round vowels as Vinkun. Elphaba, unable to control her mouth, smiled widely at the acceptance. Baxiana rose gracefully and gently prised Elphaba from her husband's friendly grip. She rested her hands on the green woman's shoulders, staring into her eyes. Elphaba recognised this as a test of character, and didn't falter in her stare. She met the Queen's eyes evenly, calmly, with a polite smile still on her lips.

Finally Baxiana grinned.

"Welcome to the family, Elphaba Thropp." Marillot saw his wife's acceptance and moved forward based on her judgement. Had Baxiana not approved Elphaba, she would have been told to leave.

"Thank you, your Highness," Elphaba took a deep breath, thankful for one hurdle leaped, but already forseeing a tumble at the next, "but I must inform you of something which is of paramount importance." Fiyero realised that she was going to tell them about the baby, and stepped closer to wind a hand around her waist. His hand curled around her hip and gently rubbed her abdomen. Placing a hand on Fiyero's, Elphaba smiled at him quickly, drawing strength from his love.

Unbeknownst to the couple, Baxiana had seen the way Fiyero caressed Elphaba's stomach, and coupled with the 'news' they had been told of, a conclusion was fast appearing in her mind.

"Mam, Dad, Elphaba and I are having a baby." Fiyero declared, tightening his hold on his lover. The pair braced themselves for cries of outrage and disappointment, both tensing for impact.

"Well, I won't pretend I'm utterly ecstatic, Fiyero - you could have waited! - but you seem ready for this child. You quite clearly love each other very much, with..." she faltered, "Fiyero,  _angerdd_?" Fiyero grinned at his mother's question.

"Passion, Mam." He translated for her. She smiled at him warmly.

"Thank you,  _bach_ , passion," Her accent was much the same as her husband's, flowing and delicate, "How far along are you, Elphaba?" She gently took Elphaba's hand and guided her away, to talk due dates and baby names. Elphaba glanced fearfully at Fiyero, worried she wouldn't be able to stomach a conversation of that ilk. Fiyero chuckled at her theatrics, and blew her a kiss as she was lead away.

"Now, my flower, I have a wonderful elixir that eased my morning sickness with Fiyero,  _Duw Annwyl,_  was he a difficult pregnancy."

"I've been having the exact same complaint! My sickness is terrible, the only thing that seems to help is F- is heat." Elphaba had been about to say  _Fiyero's hands_ , but she didn't suppose that would go down particularly well.

"I can help you there, then," Baxiana paused, unsure as to how to approach this subject, "Please remember, this is not a decision you take lightly. You must really want this child." Elphaba, touched by the mothering - although slightly uncomfortable - nodded sagely.

"I do want it, your Highness." Her hand fell to rest on her abdomen, cradling the child within.

"I'm glad to hear it, my flower."

Marillot looked at the way Fiyero kept his eyes on Elphaba, staring at the door even after she had gone from his sight. He sighed, suddenly feeling his fifty-five years. His son was in love.

"Fiyero, ' _ngwas i, os brifa di hi, wna i bydd siarad i ti 'to._ "  _Fiyero, if you hurt her, I'll never speak to you again._ Fiyero turned wide eyes to face his father.

" _Byth bythoedd 'nhad! Baswn i byth yn brifo Elphaba!_ "  _Never, my father! I would never hurt Elphaba!_  Affronted at the thought, Fiyero worried that his father could see something he couldn't.

" _Dda gen i glywed. Ond, Fiyero fy mab, merch cain yw hi, gallaf weld hynny'n glir. Mae hi'n dy garu di'n angerddol._ "  _I'm glad to hear it. But Fiyero my son, she's a delicate girl, I can see that clearly. She loves you something awful._  Fiyero set his jaw, a little angry at his father's assessment. _  
_

" _Ydy, ond hi'w fenyw cryfaf y welais i erioed. Goroesodd hi gwaedu am dridiau, heb golli'r baban, a cherddodd hi mas yr ysbyty heb help na chymorth._ "  _Yes, she is, but she's also the strongest woman I've ever encountered. She survived three days of bleeding, without losing the baby, and walked out of the hospital without any aid._  Fiyero had stepped closer to the King in his passion, speaking heatedly.

Marillot smiled.

" _Gwyddais hynny i gyd. Gwelaf ei chryfder, Fiyero. Ond eisiau i ti weld hi ydw i._ "  _I knew all that, Fiyero. I can see her strength. I only wanted to make sure you did too._

He left, after clapping his son on the shoulder affectionately. Fiyero was left dumbfounded.

* * *

After retiring to a luxurious chamber, Elphaba and Fiyero embraced for some time, savouring the feeling. They could be together, parents-to-be, without persecution.

"Fiyero?" Elphaba asked quietly, watching his hand draw soft patterns on her abdomen.

"Yes, Fae?"

"Why did your parents call me 'flower'? It's not a pet name, I'm familiar with." She looked up to see him smilng.

"It's just a literal translation of ' _mlodyn i_ ' which means 'my flower'." Elphaba settled back into his arms.

"I see," she said, "only I'm no bloom." she chuckled darkly.

"You may not be a flower, but you are the glowing stem, nourishing, nurturing and necessary. Without you, a plant would die of starvation. What can a flower do with petals?" he proclaimed sweetly, holding her tight.

"Attract bees that pollinate it." Elphaba answered Fiyero's question with an amused smirk. Fiyero turned beet red, and opened his mouth to apologise.

"I know what you meant, Fiyero. And I appreciate your trying. It was very sweet." She kissed him then, happy to be holding him to her. Realising he was forgiven, Fiyero smiled sheepishly.

"Although I would have expected you remember plant properties, Yero."


	32. History

Exploring the castle became Elphaba's favourite activity. With full roaming rights, she wandered empty halls, countless guest rooms and spacious, grand ballrooms.

Discovering the Grand Hall was an experience, to say the least. Two ornate thrones stood proudly on a raised platform, burnished wood gleaming from regular, energetic polishing. Along the walls was a phalanx of beautifully shaped chairs, with dragons, flowers and various funny little words carved into the mahogany. Just as Elphaba reached a hand out to touch the surface of the nearest chair, just to see if the wood was as smooth as it looked, a voice shocked her fingers back to her side.

"Phenomenal, aren't they?" Elphaba spun around, ashamed. Olwen stood in the doorway, head tipped to one side in a motherly fashion, hands clased together in front of her. She smiled at a shocked Elphaba.

"I apologise, Madame, I should never have presumed to-" Olwen waved her apology away, a smile on her face.

" _Blodyn_ , curiosity should never be scolded. We need more of your kind," She advanced, wrapping a sturdy arm around Elphaba's shoulders. Elphaba readied herself for tensing, but it never came. It seemed natural for Olwen to touch her so familiraly, "And you must call me Olwen." Elphaba smiled at the woman's kindly demand. The two women regarded the chairs again.

"They are beautiful, aren't they?" Her rolling accent was wonderful to listen to, she would make a fantastic storyteller. Elphaba found herself nodding, eyes following the masterful contours in the wood.

"What are they for?" Breathed Elphaba. Olwen smiled wider.

"Poetry. We Vinkuns have an ancient tradition of awarding chairs to the best  _bardd_ , or poet to you. A very old pastime, poetry."

"So the chair is the prize?"

"Precisely, my flower." Elphaba liked the sound of a tradition older than the hills, art surviving through the millenia. These poets were most likely older than the myth of Lurline!

A chair hidden in the shadows drew her attention. It seemed to be cloaked in an irridescent sheet of sweeping black cloth, covering every visible part of the piece of furniture. It held sadness, Elphaba could tell. The wood was just legible under the fabric, and it was as dark as the night. Squinting carefully, Elphaba could just make out a few scattered words across the back of the chair. Olwen followed her eyeline.

"Now, I know I said curiosity should never be scolded, but please don't touch this one. Out of respect." Her own voice was sad, looking forlornly at the black chair. Elphaba turned her head to face Olwen.

"Of course, Olwen. But may I know why?" Olwen's sadness dissipated a little, and she managed a gentle smile.

"The  _bardd_  who won this chair was Hedd Wyn, or White Peace to you," she began, "White is the colour of purity and peace for the Welsh, like snowdrops in spring. Anyway, Hedd Wyn wasn't his real name, Ellis Ifans was. Now, Ellis had won the second place in the National  _Eisteddfod_ , which is our celebration of art, poetry and our language. His goal was to win first place the following year. But then the Thousand Year War began, and Ellis was forced to sign up to fight. He was a pacifist, hated the idea of war, but he wasn't needed at home, so he was sent off." Here Olwen paused for breath, taking a moment before continuing the tale. Elphaba was enraptured.

"A single year before the war ended, Ellis sent off a beautifully tragic epic poem, in one last bid to win the  _Eisteddfod._ He was originally denied the request, since the General thought that his Vinkun was a secret code to the enemy. But it was eventually sent to the Head Council. The competition was held, and a  _bardd_  with the pen name  _fleur-de-lis_  was picked as the winner."

" _Fleur-de-lis_ , that's Gillikinese." Elphaba realised.

"It is indeed,  _blodyn_. That was our Ellis' pen name, and he had won the  _Gadair._  But," Olwen paused again, seemingly collecting her thoughts, "Ellis _druan_  had been killed just three days previously. He died, not knowing of his victory. But he was happy in death. He was going to  _Arianrhod._ "

" _Arianrhod_?" Elphaba stuttered, her prononciation not quite correct.

"Yes,  _blodyn_. The woman of the moon. The name means silver." Elphaba's eyebrows drew together in sadness, the story pulling at heart strings she wasn't aware she had. Her throat felt raw with burdgeoning tears.

"That's utterly tragic," she whispered, "Just three days away from knowing he had won." Olwen nodded slowly.

"That's why we cover the chair in black cloth, and no one touches it. It's sacred, untouchable. Cleaning must be done with utmost care and lightness, and with a soft feather duster instead of a rag." Elphaba pressed a hand to her abdomen, feeling the warmth there. This was the rich culture her child would be born into.

"Thank you for telling me that, Olwen, it was beautiful. You are a wonderful storyteller." Olwen's eyes creased in the corners with laughter lines, soft face splitting into a kind smile.

"You're very welcome,  _blodyn_. This is your history now." With that, Olwen clasped her work-hardened but gentle hands around Elphaba's skinny ones.

* * *

"How was your walk?" Fiyero smiled warmly at his fiancée. Elphaba smiled back, climbing into his welcoming arms. They settled themselves comfortably on the downy mattress. The pair stayed in companiable silence for a moment, Elphaba enjoying the swirling patterns Fiyero made on her stomach.

"Olwen told me about the Black Chair this afternoon." said Elphaba, watching her lover's face morph into intense joy.

"I'm glad. My history is your history now." He held her closer, careful of her abdomen.

"That's what she told me," Elphaba kissed his lips softly, but remembered what she had seen after hearing about Hedd Wyn, "You know, I saw the last chair in the row had a  _very_  familiar name carved into it," she teased, "One beginning with F..."

"Yes," groaned Fiyero in embarrassment, burrowing his face into her warm neck, "That one's mine."

"That's wonderful, Yero. You won the  _Gadair_!" Fiyero smiled at her perfect prononciation, proud of her studious nature. He kissed her heatedly, watching her eyes flutter closed.

They kissed for some time, before Elphaba wrenched herself away, laughing at the way Fiyero followed her lips. Planting one last kiss on his mouth, she replaced her own lips with a playful green finger.

"I want to hear the poem that won you the  _Gadair_ , Yero." Fiyero grinned seductively, grappling her around the waist. He brought his mouth close to her ear, and whispered the first verse in her ear, feeling her pleasurable shivers.

" _Gwae fi fy myw mewn oes mor ddreng,_  
A Duw ar drai ar orwel pell;  
O'i ôl mae dyn, yn deyrn a gwreng,  
Yn codi eu awdurdod hell."

Elphaba stayed silent for a clock-turn or two, allowing the poem to sink into her memory. The foreign words washed over her, causing her to shudder at the strange yet raw sounds of her lover's language.

"That's beautiful, Yero." she choked out. Fiyero smiled softly at her, catching the acid tears before they could harm her. Their mouths connected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything Olwen says about Hedd Wyn is true, apart for the fact he fought in the First World War and his second name, which is Evans. I changed it to the Welsh spelling, because it sounded a little more Vinkun. The poem Fiyero recited is a Hedd Wyn piece, about the First World War. It's the poem that won him the Gadair. Druan means 'poor' in the sense of 'poor him'.


	33. Luminous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time has passed, and Elphaba is in her seventh month of pregnancy.

Nestled in the expansive Kiamo Ko library, Elphaba had a heavy tome balanced on her stomach. Wrapped up in words, trapped in syntax. Happily absorbed in Inkworld.

Taking a little break, the verdant woman flicked her eyes to the latticed window. She wondered idly if the diamonds deliberately echoed Fiyero's, and his father's, and all of his revered ancestors. Slowly, Elphaba let her vision drift down to stare at her abdomen.

Examining her belly, Elphaba decided she was neutral about the curious feeling of her stomach expanding to accomodate the growing baby. She put a hand on top of it, feeling the roundness, reflecting how completely odd, yet comfortable it felt. She had truthfully never envisaged becoming a mother in her life, it was an alien concept to her. She had mothered Nessa and Shell enough to last her a lifetime. Having a job, and a life seperate from her family had really been the extent of her dreams.

Then Fiyero waltzed into her life, entrancing and beautiful. Utterly desirable, but sweet and shy, kind and calm. And he had wanted her, for some inexplicable reason. It was safe to say that she had grabbed Fiyero with both hands, after a period of reluctant desires. And look where it had got her! Elphaba chuckled quietly to herself, rubbing her underside of her abdomen.

But she certainly wanted this baby. For one, it was hers and Fiyero's, a product of their love. Despite having her for mother, it had survived three days of bleeding, and another few months of wedding planning. She wanted it simple, and Fiyero agreed. It was Baxiana pushing for a big celebration of holy matrimony. The Queen was beginning to remind Elphaba of Galinda, the enthusiastic little socialite who guarded their tryst for so long. Speaking of whom, Elphaba mused, it would be a thought to invite her to the wedding. She would probably enjoy it more than Elphaba would.

"What are you chuckling about, Fae?" Asked Fiyero happily, entering the library and seeing her curled up on a red velvet loveseat. She smiled lovingly at him, and patted the space next to her. He sat down obediantly, taking her slightly swollen ankles into his lap and massaging them gently. Elphaba moaned quietly in relief, head tipping back onto the armrest. Staying in silence for some time, Elphaba finally replied.

"I wondered if we could invite Galinda to the wedding?" She asked, opening her eyes to truly look at Fiyero. He grinned.

"Of course, Fae. She's done enough for us." He continued to rub her ankles, providing soothing relief from the throbbing pain. The baby was heavy, and gave her ankles some grief. "How are you feeling?" Fiyero asked softly.

"Curious. I've never had a baby before, obviously, so I had no idea what to expect other than my scientific knowledge of pregnancy. And it's odd, it feels comfortable, but at the same time weird." Her hand had began rubbing her stomach again, a reflex habit she had developed since her close shave with the bleeding.

Fiyero shifted carefully, drawing Elphaba between his legs, allowing her to lean against his broad chest. His hands fell on her abdomen, joining hers.

"I don't know what to expect either," he chuckled, stroking Elphaba's belly, "so we're both going in blind." He kissed the crown of her head, breathing in her exotic scent.

"You're glowing, Fae." Fiyero whispered in her ear. Elphaba just scoffed in response. Fiyero rubbed her shoulders softly, feeling her become liquid under his palms

"No, you are," argued Fiyero playfully, "Don't disagree with me, Fae. Your skin is luminous-"

"My skin! It's always about my skin with you! Must you always refer to my looks?!" Spat Elphaba, feeling a sudden surge of anger. Fiyero was cowed, recognising a violent mood swing.

"I'm sorry I offended you, Fae." he apologised quickly, nuzzling her neck lovingly. He felt her relax again, and let out a breath slowly.

"I'm so sorry for that, Yero. I didn't mean it." she whispered, ashamed at how fast she had turned on him in the heat of the moment.

"I know,  _cariad_." Fiyero was silent for a few clock-ticks. "But it is gorgeous.  _You're_ gorgeous."

"Somehow, I doubt it, Yero." Elphaba replied monotonously. Fiyero frowned. He had never quite understood what made Elphaba so reluctant to be known as beautiful, but he would endeavour to change her mind about it.

"I don't. I see it. I love you." he nuzzled her neck, prompting a delicious smile from her.

"I love you too, Yero." Feeling lips on her warm throat and jaw, Elphaba moaned, deciding to let him think what he wanted.

The parents-to-be remained entwined together on the loveseat, nestling in each others arms. Utterly content with their place in the world, and content to be together.


	34. A Royal Wedding

Everything was in it's place, perfectly set out for a big day, a royal wedding. The union between the Crown Prince Fiyero Tigelaar and the Third Thropp Descending Elphaba was going to a quiet spectacle, much to the chagrin of their friend and confidante, Galinda Upland of the Arduennas.

She wanted a large service in a pretty local church, filled to the brim with emotions and vows written from the heart, a passionate consumatory kiss and a wonderful reception, and a panoply of well-wishers, family and friends.

The realistic truth was a quiet ceremony, traditional vows and a small reception. Elphaba had refused to go any bigger than that, and had pointed out dryly that she was in no condition to 'dance the night away', as Galinda had exuberantly suggested.

* * *

"Elphie? Are you in here?" Galinda shyly peeked around the imposing wooden door to Elphaba and Fiyero's chambers. Spotting the couple kissing energetically, the petite socialite blushed furiously, then remembered an age-old wedding-day rule.

"You two! The groom  _cannot_  see the bride before the ceremony! Fiyero, begone! You don't want any bad luck to darken your union!" she gasped, yanking Elphaba away from Fiyero's arms, who threw his hands up in surrender.

"Understood, Miss Galinda. I'm leaving." Fiyero smiled, before looking at Elphaba lovingly. "See you soon, Fae." he grinned at her subtle wink. As Fiyero carefully shut the door behind him, he heard Galidna reprimand Elphaba like a mother.

"Elphie, what have I told you about..."

Her voice trailed off as Fiyero went to see his father, chuckling quietly to himself.

* * *

"Galinda, if I have to sit for a moment longer, I may commit mass homicide."

"Nonsense, Elphie!" chirped Galinda, pulling another lock of Elphaba's hair away masterfully, "You wouldn't hurt a fly." Elphaba looked down at her swollen stomach.

"I don't believe I could, in this condition." she chortled, rubbing at her abdomen.

"Elphaba, you do not have a 'condition', you're growing life!" Galinda smiled perkily, as Elphaba snorted.

"A sickeningly optimistic euphemism. Technically, I am host to a parasite. It takes all of the nutrients from my food, and breathes from my air supply." said Elphaba matter-of-factly.

Galinda looked vaguely traumatised.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to look at it..." she babbled nervously. Elphaba laughed loudly at the expression on the little blonde's face, clutching her belly for support.

Galinda frowned prettily at Elphaba's antics, trying to cover up her embarrassment in vain.

"Just be still, you mean green thing." she huffed, forcefully holding Elphaba's head in place. The green woman stopped laughing as another strand of hair was yanked into behaving for Galinda.

* * *

" _Fiyero, ngwas i, dyma yw diwrnod dy briodas. 'S'dim meddyliadau difarus?_ " Marillot teased.  _Fiyero, my boy, today's your wedding day. No regrets?_  Fiyero just looked at his father dispprovingly, who promptly let out a hearty laugh.

" _'Drych ar y wep sur 'na! 'Mond tynnu dy goes ydw i, bachgen_."  _Look at that sour face! I'm only pulling your leg, boy._ Fiyero shook his head and straightened his lapels anxiously.

" _Dwi'n caru Elphaba, a dwi 'rioed 'di bod mor siwr am unrhywbeth yn fy mywyd_." _I love Elphaba, and I've never been more sure of anything in my life._ Fiyero looked in the full-length mirror, following the intricate spirals in the carved frame. His history. Now his background would become  _their_  background, his and Elphaba's.

Marillot raised a bushy eyebrow at his serious son. This was the first time Fiyero had commited to one thing so whole-heartedly in his life, and the King was overjoyed it was to someone as wonderful as Elphaba. They were a curious, but perfectly matched pair.

" _Da gen i glywed. 'Dach chi moyn priodi, a dylech chi."_ Marillot paused _. "Heb son am y babi, wrth gwrs._ " He added.  _I'm glad to hear it. You want to get married, and you should. Not to mention the baby, of course._ Fiyero scowled at his father.

" _Dim ond un o'r rhesymau yw'r babi, Dad."_ He said sternly.  _The baby is only one of the reasons, Dad._  Marillot held up his hands, and looked seriously at his son.

" _Fiyero, dwi'n deall hynny. Ma' dy fam a finnau'n hapus tu hwnt am y briodas a'r babi. 'Da ni'n caru ti, ac Elphaba._ "  _Fiyero, I understand that. Your Mum and I are overjoyed about the wedding and the baby. We love you, and Elphaba._

Fiyero beamed at his father.

* * *

Fiyero stood at the altar, resisting the overwhelming urge to pace back and forth. Elphaba was only a touch late, barely even a clock-turn. Glancing worriedly at the door again, Fiyero began to wring his hands.

Marillot, who stood next to him, hands linked in front of him, leaned over subtly and spoke through gritted teeth.

" _Fiyero._ " Fiyero looked up, an expression of worry on his features. " _Ma'r briodferch i fod yn hwyr. Ymlaciwch fach, a gwenwch, fachgen!" The bride is supposed to be late. Relax a little, and smil_ _e, boy!"_ Fiyero promptly grimaced. Marillot just sighed, and demonstrated a composed smile for his son. Fiyero rearranged his mouth to mirror his father's, and achieved a passable grin.

Just then, the double doors opened grandly, revealing Elphaba in her wedding dress.

The gown was very simple, as per her instructions. The creamy bodice wasn't constricting across her torso, and the skirt was flowing, just brushing the ground. The half-length sleeves covered her upper arms, but showed her wrists and delicate hands. The scooped neckline ran along her collarbones, and settled on the edges of her shoulders. The dress fit forgivingly over her rounded belly, allowing her to breathe.

Contrary to Elphaba's belief, the white of the wedding dress did not clash with her skin. In fact, it enhanced the pearlescent quality of it, lighting a delicate sheen, like an emerald.

Fiyero quickly clapped a hand to him mouth to stifle a sob. She looked beautiful, the picture of a glowing bride. Elphaba smiled serenely at him, meeting his eyes. The pair seemed to have an inaudible conversation as Elphaba walked slowly down the aisle to the rostrum. Fiyero hurried from his place to help her up the stairs, supporting her under the baby's growing weight.

Finally the couple arrived together before the minister, who smiled gently and benevolently before addressing the spellbound congregation.

"Dearly beloved..."

* * *

Elphaba laughed joyously, gripping at Fiyero's lapels as he guided her frantically to their rooms, clutching at her hand tightly. Bursting through the door and falling onto the king-sized bed, Fiyero was careful of Elphaba's abdomen. He held her carefully and slowly let her down onto the bed, controlling her descent.

The pair met in a sweet kiss, hands roaming over each other's bodies.

Sitting up to look at his six-hours wife, Fiyero felt his breath escape his lungs. She looked up at him lovingly, tendrils of inky hair coming free from her fancy hair arrangement. Fiyero let his eyes wander over her body, lingering at her eyes, mouth and stomach.

She was seven months pregnant with his child.  _Their_  child. A baby that they had created together. Accidentally, but lovingly nonetheless. And she just looked more and more beautiful every day. Whenever she rested a hand on her belly, Fiyero couldn't help smiling, seeing her so maternal.

"Oh, Fae, I love you." he whispered reverently. Elphaba smiled happily before sitting up with some difficulty because of her baby bump. She fondly carressed his cheek, and kissed him gently.

"I love you too,  _cariad_." she breathed, calling him her love in Vinkun. Fiyero's mouth dropped open at her words.

Suddenly his mouth was on hers, hard and persistent and passionate. Mildly surprised, Elphaba just decided to go with it. After a round of energetic kisses, Fiyero groaned.

"Fae, you would not believe how sexy that was. You calling me  _love_  in my mothertongue - oh, Lurline - I love you, I love you, I lov-" Elphaba cut him off with a kiss.

"You're fairly attractive yourself,  _cariad_." she emphasised the foreign word, and Fiyero moaned again, diving for her mouth.

Husband and wife spent the magical night together in bliss, beyond happy.


	35. Happily Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand I'm done!

Entwined together on the spacious king-sixed bed, Elphaba and Fiyero lay comfortably in each other's arms, Elphaba between Fiyero's legs. The pair both had their hands on Elphaba's swollen belly, stroking it gently with contented smiles on their faces. Warm and snug, the green woman nestled closer to her husband. She smiled reflexively. Her  _husband._ She had never even thought of marriage and everything that came with it. Spinsterhood seemed fated for her. Yet here she was, happily married and about to have her first child.

Speaking of whom, he/she was giving her grief this morning. Kicking and moving around, shifting her centre of gravity regularly and uncomfortably. Elphaba couldn't help herself, she moaned a little when the baby heaved a particularly ferocious kick to her kidneys.

Fiyero glanced down at her worriedly.

"Fae,  _cariad_ , are you alright? It's not the baby, is it?" As Elphaba was nine months pregnant, Fiyero was on high alert for any developments that could suggest labour.

"It is the baby, but he's kicking around a lot. He's gotten too big, there's no more room for him." groaned Elphaba, rubbing at one area of her rounded abdomen to try and calm the baby. Fiyero stroked with her, but - soon frustrated by the lack of reach he had whilst behind her - shifted around to lay Elphaba gently against downy pillows, and settled just between her legs, at eye level with Elphaba's stomach.

" _Baban_ ," began Fiyero softly, hands resting on either side of Elphaba's belly, "I know you're anxious to get out, but please give your poor mother some peace. She has carried you for nearly nine months now, and she needs some rest from your kicking. Could you do that for her?" Slowly, the movements miraculously stilled, and Fiyero's features stretched wide with an overjoyed grin. Elphaba felt calm once more.

She sighed in relief, and rubbed the underside of her stomach, whispering her thanks to the baby.

"Thank you, Yero," Elphaba smiled at him lovingly.

"You're very welcome, Fae," Fiyero chuckled, rubbing with her.

Fiyero's brain suddenly reminded him of something Elphaba had said.

"Wait just a clock-tick, 'he'?" Elphaba grinned sheepishly.

"Instinct. I don't know for sure, Yero, but the baby feels like a he." Fiyero pouted.

"I was hoping for a little girl," he teased lightly, and Elphaba flicked his forehead sharply.

"I don't have a choice, Fiyero," she hissed, "You get what you're given with pregnancy." Fiyero instantly backed down, hands high in surrender.

"Yes, yes, of course, I'm sorry-" A sharp intake of breath and tensing of muscles from Elphaba cut him short, and he immediately began to fuss.

"Fae, is it the baby? Is it coming?" Elphaba, unable to answer since her mouth was clenched shut in pain, just nodded tightly, rubbing frantically at her belly. Fiyero jumped form the bed, and threw open the door.

" _Mam, mae Elphaba ar fin ca'l y babi_!" He bellowed down the corridor, and soom, Baxiana came running.  _Mum, Elphaba's gone into labour_! The Queen pushed past Fiyero and just as he was about to follow her, the heavy door slammed in his face, just missing his nose.

" _Ma'n ddrwg gen i, bach. Dim ond menywod yn y stafell geni_."  _I'm sorry, dear. Only women in the birthing room_. Fiyero heard his mother kindly, but firmly say from behind the door.

Fiyero regretted his decision in letting his mother go in first. He needed to be with Elphaba when their first child was born!

Just as he began to pace worriedly, he heard a keening cry of pain from Elphaba.

* * *

A few clock-circles passed, and soon Elphaba was ready to push. Baxiana, accompanied by the Royal Midwife, murmured encouragement and praise, holding the green woman's hand tightly, while Fiyero sat outside the door, breaking apart at the screams of pain Elphaba released periodically.

"Now, my flower, you're just about ready to begin pushing." Baxiana soothed the verdant woman, who was breathing frantically and deeply, sweat bubbling on her forehead, cheeks flushed a deep ivy-green from effort.

" _Fiyero!_ " she screamed, tipping her head back onto the pillows, trying desperately not to thrash about in agony.

Fiyero winced, hearing his name on Elphaba's bitten and chewed lips, and knowing he wasn't allowed in to comfort her.

" _Fiyero, I will kill you when I'm done!"_ Maybe he wasn't needed for the reason he thought he was. Best to stay away. " _You cad, you sybarite, you absolute-"_  Elphaba cut herself off with an angry screech as a contraction took hold. As the contraction passed, Fiyero heard audible panting.

" _Yero... Yero,_ " Fiyero heard Elphaba whimper, and yearned to go to her, " _I need you, Yero, please, please-_ " Elphaba had never begged for anything in her entire existence, but she wanted Fiyero with her right this instant! She  _needed_  him to help her.

That was the last straw for Fiyero. He leapt up and burst into the room, finding Elphaba lying on the bed, legs splayed open. She opened tired brown eyes, and called him over weakly.

"Please, Yero, please..." she reached out an exhausted hand, and Fiyero readily took it, squeezing her fingers gently and bringing them to his lips to kiss lovingly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Fae." He whispered to her, and brushed inky tendrils of sweat-soaked hair away from her face. Kissing her hand once more, he turned to his mother, who looked unbearably proud of him.

" _Eich Mawrhydi, bydd angen gwthio rwan_." the midwife ordered.  _Your Highness, you must push now._ Elphaba gathered her remaining strength, and released it in a shrieking yell, pushing for all she was worth. Fiyero felt the bones in his hand crack under the pressure Elphaba was inflicting on them, but decided to grin and bare it. He had essentially caused this for her.

A thin wail broke the silence, and both Elphaba and Fiyero grinned widely in relief, hearing their child cry for the first time.

" _Llongyfarchiadau, eich Mawrhydi_.  _Mae mab iachus gennych_."  _Congratulations, Your Highness. You have a healthy son_. Fiyero translated quickly for Elphaba, and she instantly reached her arms out for the child. The smiling midwife placed the baby boy into her arms, and the green woman cradled him gently, supporting his delicate head on her upper arm.

"You were right, Fae. It was a he." Fiyero whispered to Elphaba, who simply smiled and adjusted the blanket around her son, swaddling him close to her chest.

The new parents smiled down at the bewildered baby, who let out a nervous cry.

" _Croeso i'n byd ni, ein baban bach ni_." choked Fiyero, feeling tears of happiness close his throat.  _Welcome to our world, our little baby_. Elphaba looked at him, surprised. It was strangely affecting to see her husband cry over the birth of their son. Shifting her baby to one arm, Elphaba stroked Fiyero's cheek and kissed him softly, an unspoken assurance of her presence. Fiyero smiled through his tears, and kissed her forehead, before bending carefully and kissing the baby boy's smooth forehead.

* * *

"You realise of course he needs a name," teased Marillot, swinging the nameless baby back and forth gently, and grinning with a grandfather's love at the coos of delight from the infant. Elphaba hovered uncertainly, trusting the king wholeheartedly but also unable to quell her mother's instinct to have her son back in her arms, where she was positive of his safety.

"Llyr?" Fiyero suggested, "I've always liked Llyr for a boy." Elphaba smiled at him, liking the sound of the name.

"Does it mean anything?" she asked curiously, and Baxiana supplied the reply.

"The Mystical Sea." Elphaba's memory suddenly sparked and she was transported back to her old classroom at Shiz, and Fiyero's first promise to her.

_"I will love you until the skies end, when the stars break and burn, and the Mystical Sea boils and swallows us whole."_

She tapped Fiyero on the arm and whispered in his ear. With every word, his smile grew, and eventually, he reached for his son and handed him carefully to Elphaba, who rocked him gently, soothing his distress at the end of the fun swinging. Fiyero's arm around her waist, the pair turned to face his parents.

"Fiyero and I have decided we like Llyr, but could we possibly change it slightly to Liir?" At the confused looks on the King and Queen's faces, Elphaba explained, "It's similar, and a Munchkin interpretation of the name." Marillot and Baxiana smiled with understanding, and nodded readily.

Elphaba and Fiyero grinned at each other, then looked down at their burbling son, who was fisting his chubby hands in Elphaba's dangling hair, watching it swing to and fro. The infant regarded his parents, and giggled.

"Liir it is," pronounced Fiyero softly, as his and Elphaba's foreheads touched in an arch over Liir's head.

**Author's Note:**

> In Oz, they don't seem to use our measures of time, so I have devised my own system. *pushes glasses up nose* Here it is:
> 
> Clock-ticks = seconds  
> Clock-turns = minutes  
> Clock-circles = hours
> 
> This story will be bookverse, but with influences from the musical. Also, Elphaba will blush dark green. I know the science of this is flawed, but GM states that that's how she blushes, so I'm going to go with my own (probably deeply flawed) scientific theory on this one. Humans have several layers of skin, and I imagine Elphaba has more. She has this as a defense mechanism for her water allergy: if she burns, less damage is done to her skin. And because of this, her blood - although just as red as ours - doesn't colour her cheeks like it does ours. I personally see Elphaba as a mix of Nikki Davies-Jones (the British tour Elphaba) and my own imagination, but feel free to imagine her how you wish.


End file.
